


Set The Fire To the Third Bar

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-War, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: It's one perfect mistake after another, one missed step in front of the  other, ending up with the potential for nothing, or the potential to  move even farther.





	1. So Far From Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: lyrics by Brett Dennen  


* * *

**PART 1: So Far From Me**

 

Hermione checked her watch for the fifth time in half an hour. Ron and Harry were supposed to be at her flat at 8 pm sharp to escort her to Hannah's Leaky Cauldron New Year's Eve party. It was a big deal. They were starting a new century, Hannah had just taken over ownership of the pub, and all of their old friends were finally coming together after spending the years after the war in the wind. Even Ginny was going to make an appearance, if she could get her training schedule cleared with the Harpies. 

 

However, she was never going to make it there if she had to go to Grimmauld Place and grab the boys by the ear. After the war, she had gone back to school, Ron helped George out at the shop, and Harry went straight to the Aurors. Now, Ron and Harry were an unstoppable team of law enforcement, while Hermione had herself firmly entrenched in magical legislation. Things were looking up and she didn't want tonight's celebration to fizzle out. They all needed a break. Hermione huffed and apparated from her flat to Grimmauld Place. 

 

Her black pumps clicked loudly on the ancient wooden floors of the house as she searched for her friends. She made her way up the stairs and found Ron in his room, looking forlorn in front of the mirror. He had on his sharp black trousers and dress shirt, but his bowtie hung limply from his collar. He cast a spell, and it tied, but looked crooked. He groaned and untied it by hand, trying again. 

 

"Tying spells are never accurate," Hermione said gently, walking over to him in front of the mirror. Ron looked up at her and smiled, looking back down at his tie ruefully. "Here, let me tie it."

 

She reached up and expertly fashioned the perfect bow around Ron's neck. She straightened his collar, fastened his cufflinks, and even wrapped his cummerbund around his waist. She looked up at him and smiled, and he rolled his eyes.

 

"I can dress myself you know," he said quietly.

 

"I know, I just miss helping you sometimes," Hermione said wistfully. For a good year after the war, she and Ron had been inseparable. They loved each other, shared a bed, and they held each other when the nightmares got to be too much. But when the clouds of war and pain had lifted, Ron and Hermione found that they relied more on their friendship than their romance. While it hurt to sever the ties, they were happier now. Everything felt as close to right as it ever was. 

 

"I miss it too, 'Mione," Ron said, kissing her forehead. Since their breakup, Ron had been experimenting with dating. He was seeing various girls, but it never got very far. He even tried his hand with a few men, and to Hermione's surprise, he was just as happy to be dating them. However, Ron still hadn't found anything that stuck. 

 

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked, handing him his jacket.

 

"He hasn't come back from work yet. He stayed behind to finish the paperwork and said I could go on home. I was bloody hungry and the growling was driving him barmy," Ron said, rubbing his stomach. 

 

"Oh, for Christ sake. We're going to be so late!" Hermione threw her hands up. 

 

"You know, we've got some wine downstairs. We can get started early," Ron said, waggling his eyebrows. Hermione couldn't help but smile as they made their way down to the kitchen. "Why isn't Larry coming anyway?"

 

"His name is Lawrence," Hermione murmured. "And this was the only night he could get that international portkey to Russia. 

 

Lawrence was Hermione's boyfriend. They had been dating for a few months. He threw himself into his work a lot, and that suited her just fine. They enjoyed some evenings out and some nights together. Hermione felt content. She and Lawrence were a very appropriate match. She sighed as she thought of him on the way to the kitchen. 

 

There was a beautifully constructed and frankly delicious looking sandwich sitting in the center of the table. "I thought you came home to eat," Hermione, her mouth watering involuntarily. She really needed to remember to eat dinner before going out. 

 

"Oh I did, that's Harry's." Ron said, popping the cork on the wine. Hermione couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at Ron's little gesture of tenderness. She was interrupted from her train of thought by the front door slamming open.

 

"Harry," Ron whispered, his face lighting up. Hermione felt her heart speed up a little at Ron's expression. 

 

She had always had her suspicions, always wondered if Harry and Ron's relationship was a little too close for best mates. But she would often find herself running to the conclusion that they just had a deeper friendship. However, during moments where Ron would get that look on his face, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her boys should be with each other, instead of searching for their souls elsewhere. 

 

Her heart only began to beat faster when Harry walked through the door, his eyes never leaving Ron's face. She had to clear her throat to remind them that she was there, and they had plans. Harry shook his head, as if trying to shake off his thoughts like water, grabbed the sandwich, and ran upstairs to change. 

 

Harry was ready in the blink of an eye, much to Ron's chagrin, and the trio apparated arm in arm to The Leaky Cauldron. They were greeted by an elegantly decorated pub, the raucous shouting and loud music created a pleasing dichotomy with the décor. The three were surrounded by a throng of old friends and roommates, embracing them and patting them on the back. Hermione reveled in the warmth and the happiness, holding onto her friends tightly. When Luna pulled her off into a corner, she happily went, and was convinced into a cocktail or three almost immediately.

 

Hermione made her rounds after starting things off with Luna. She hugged Neville and Hannah, danced in the middle of a Dean and Seamus sandwich, and even enjoyed some polite conversation with Lavender. She found Ron and Harry throughout the night, laughing, drinking, and having a good time, but never leaving each other's sides. It was shaping up to be a perfect celebration.

 

As midnight approached, the music slowed down, and everyone seemed to be paired off. Hermione tried not to feel lonely, eternally grateful for Luna's lone wolf approach to life. Even Dean and Seamus were wrapped in a tight embrace on the dance floor. Ron and Harry came over to join her and Luna, and they watched in silence as the rest of their friends danced. Dean and Seamus shuffled near them, and Ron got such an odd look on his face that Hermione thought he might turn bright red and explode. The shifty glances he was shooting at Harry were obvious…but apparently only to her. 

 

"Ms. Granger, would you do me the honor?" Someone's hand came down on her shoulder. For a split second, she thought Lawrence had managed to get away from work, but she was surprised to see Percy Weasley standing near her. His eyes flicked to Ron for a split second, Ron smiled warmly, and he held out his hand to her.

 

Hermione gladly took the distraction Percy had offered. In the past year, she had worked with him very closely. He was the undersecretary to the Minister and she was a magical law reviewer, so they spent a lot of time together. On occasion they took lunches together, and had developed an easy and stimulating friendship. They had even met for coffee a few times outside of work.

 

He guided her out onto the dance floor, with remarkable grace, and moved her in circles around the other dancers. She was impressed, and enjoying the buzz of alcohol as she danced with him through the pub. She reluctantly slowed when Neville and Hannah stood on top of the bar and began the countdown to the New Millennium. She kept close to Percy, but swiveled her head around at all of the couples. 

 

Ron and Harry were standing next to each other near her and Percy, counting down the time. Ron had a huge smile on his face as his booming voice belted out the decreasing numbers. Harry was mumbling, looking up at Ron and blushing. He looked like he was about to run screaming out the door. Hermione moved away from Percy to make sure everything was okay with Harry when someone yelled zero. 

 

Harry grabbed Ron's face and kissed him firmly. 

 

Percy gripped Hermione's elbow, and she let out a loud gasp. No one else was paying attention, as they were focused on someone else's lips. But Hermione saw her two best friends kiss. She was prepared for it to change everything. Instead, Harry pulled back, horrified, and ran swiftly out of the pub. Ron stood there looking confused, and then hurt, and then forlornly walked over to the floo and disappeared. 

 

Percy and Hermione met eyes, and she knew they were on the same wavelength: "We are all screwed."

 

888888888888888888888888

 

_Crows ravaging a field of wheat_

_Stars jealous of the moon_

_Scarecrows know their own defeat_

_Envy and the heart that it consumes_

 

 

Harry Potter found it amazing that someone could live with another person, and still completely avoid them. Ever since that awful, brash, ill-conceived stunt Harry pulled on New Year's Eve, he had been avoiding Ron like the plague. He was afraid to meet his eyes, terrified that he would find confusion…or worse disgust…in them. He couldn’t lose Ron just because he couldn't keep his own feelings in check.

 

Harry woke up an hour earlier than Ron did, and made sure he was to the office by the time Ron even thought about coming into work. He kept himself busy, mostly in the records room, filing old cases and paperwork. He hoped they wouldn't get an assignment any time soon. He slowly summoned another dusty box of files, finding solace in the dark, hidden space of the Auror department. If Ron had wanted to be with Harry, it would have happened already.

 

"Potter, there you are!" head Auror Robards exclaimed. Harry jumped, and then turned around and attempted to face his supervisor nonchalantly. His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw Ron peeking at him sheepishly through his fringe. "I've got a mission for you two. I know it's been slow lately, so I hope you haven't gone rusty."

 

"I'm doing great, sir," Harry said. He looked over at Ron and saw him looking even more hurt than he had the night Harry walked away. 

 

"Excellent…Excellent. We've got a string of leftover Death Eaters trying to build up another following. We were tipped off by a pub owner where they were holding their meetings. Said they were making recruitment plans and had mentioned something about prisoners," Robards started.

 

"Bloody hell. Have you cross referenced with missing persons?" Ron asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning his head away from Harry.

Robards nodded and silently passed Ron the file. Ron scanned them and his eyes widened. Harry couldn't help it, he moved closely to Ron to read the list for himself. Twenty names were listed; all young men and women, and all disappeared around the same time. Harry gasped, the gravity of the situation sinking in. He couldn't help but instinctively move closer to Ron, instantly drawn in by the warmth he projected.

 

"We have to check…" Harry started.

 

"Yeah, check their backgrounds. There's a chance some of this was just straight up recruiting," Ron interrupted. Harry couldn’t figure out whether to feel frustrated or embarrassed, so he just blushed.

 

"Sounds like as good a place to start as any! And when you get it narrowed down, maybe we can calibrate a possible location by looking at the recruits and finding some commonality," Robards said, handing them a few more files and walking away. 

 

They stood there in silence for a moment, pretending to look at the files in Ron's hand. Harry could hear his deep breathing, and new that if he concentrated hard enough, he could probably hear Ron's heart racing over his own. It ripped him apart inside, the awkwardness between them, but Harry knew it was for the best. Their friendship could survive a literal slip of the tongue, but it could not survive Harry being overtly in love with Ron…who may never love him back in that way. The chances were too great, there was too much at stake. "Ron, I…"

 

"Come on, we need to read through these and get a map set up before the end of the day. I'd like a location to start in on tomorrow," Ron interrupted, turning on his heel and heading back toward their office. Harry's heart broke just a little more. 

 

True to their plan, by the end of the day, they had managed to draw nearly a perfect circle of missing wizards around one point, about 20 square miles around, just north of London. There was a wizarding village there, one that had fallen  under notice of the Ministry for some time, and it was pretty clear whomever these new Death Eaters were, they were operating from somewhere in that area. They had a plan mapped out, and a course of action based around the most popular points in that area. Robards was impressed by their efficiency, and Harry's subconscious couldn’t help but point out that it was because they had worked in relative silence all day. 

 

By the next day, a team was assembled to accompany Harry and Ron to the pinpointed area near Waltham Abbey. They had selected various locations where men frequented, and each Auror was stationed with instructions just to look inconspicuous and keep their eyes and ears open. They all had on nondescript disguises to make them look elderly, haggard, or just relatively unobtrusive. They also decided to only wear disguises as men, because for some reason, this cell seemed to only want to recruit men. 

 

Harry and Ron stationed themselves on either side of a crowded pub. They weathered their appearances, changed their hair and skin tone, and put on some tattered robes. They looked like dirty, angry individuals. Harry put on a menacing glare in the hopes that he would attract the right sort of people. He and Ron had extendable ears disillusioned to hear what was going on with the other person. Then they sat down, and drank carefully measured glasses full of warm mead. 

 

Not an hour later, someone sat next to Ron at the counter, and Harry tensed as he heard the stool creak and draw a sharp breath. Harry tried carefully to not be too obvious as he eyed the man next to his best mate. The man seated next to him was medium build, but that was all Harry could discern through the thick, dark, and consuming robes the newcomer wore. Harry got up slowly and moved to a closer vantage point, his wand drawn beneath his sleeve and his hand clenching around the thick glass mug. 

 

"Pint, if you please," the stranger said, in an all too familiar voice. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath to keep from running after him. Scabior, the man whose actions led to the torture of Hermione and the death of Dobby, one of the most wanted wizards in Europe, was seated right there at that pub. It was no coincidence, and the situation just got markedly more dangerous. Harry hoped Ron would be able to gain his trust enough to get some information.

 

After a few minutes of painful silence, in which only the sound of the amber liquid flowing down Ron's throat echoed in Harry's ears, Ron finally spoke. "Tastes like piss."

 

"Then why the fuck you drinkin’ it?" Scabior asked, not looking up from his alcohol.

 

"People leave yeh alone at this pub, don' wan no do gooders breathin’down me neck," Ron said, in a garbled accent that sounded both Irish and Hagrid in the same breath. Harry hoped it wasn't as obvious to Scabior. 

 

"Know what you mean, mate. Been trying to avoid the do-gooders for nearly three years now," Scabior said. Harry bit his lip. That was the bait. That was the way Scabior would verify if Ron was on his side or not.

 

"Tell me about it, everywhere I look there's another muggle humpin abomination in official robes," Ron took a long swig of his drink. "Fuckin mudbloods."

 

"Why haven't I seen you here before?" Scabior asked, though Harry could see his shoulders and back were already less tense. Ron had started to open the door, now he just had to keep his foot there. 

 

"I'm on the run. Got into a bit of it a few years ago…they call it Muggle Baiting now or some tripe… now I'm a wanted man," Ron said, his voice sounding like gravel and completely foreign to Harry. "Me an’ my associate have been all over England sleepin' it out in pubs and caves."

 

Harry's heart sank. What was Ron doing? Surely his story would seem flimsy if he brought Harry into the mix. He saw Scabior looking around and tried to avoid his eyes without looking like he was avoiding anything. 

 

"You don't look familiar to me, and I know all likeminded gentlemen in the country," Scabior said, and Harry flinched as he reached for his wand.

 

"Names Jack Skelton, me mate is Rick Harper," Ron said gesturing toward Harry. Harry suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline and appreciation for Ron. Jack and Rick were known associates, wanted men, and last seen in Scotland. No one had a good picture of them, but they were wanted for…among other things…assaulting Muggle women. Ron had been playing at that angle the whole time. By Scabior's look of recognition, he was familiar with the story as well. 

 

"You know, Jack, I might have just the thing to scratch that itch. You and your associate wouldn’t have to run anymore either," Scabior smirked.

 

"Who the hell are you t'offer a thing like that?" Ron answered gruffly. The paranoid air he gave off was palpable.

 

"You like Mudblood women? Muggle women? I can get you those," Scabior said, like he was offering Ron gold. This was the final test and Harry knew it. Rick and Jack were known for their taste for these women, and they were notorious for being unable to resist a vulnerable one. If they were who they said they were, then Scabior's offer should have them leaping.

 

"Lemme get Rick."

 

Ron stood up and waved his hand dismissively in the air toward Harry. Harry longed to meet Ron's eyes, but he knew any deviations from their characters could cost them their lives. Harry got up slowly and walked over toward Ron as if he had just interrupted a nap. He scowled at Scabior and looked at Ron questioningly.

 

"He says he's got some of what we like, how we like it," Ron said deeply and cryptically. 

 

"Mmmmm. How much?" Harry asked, licking his lips and hating himself. 

 

"Tell you what, I'll give you a taste of some lovelies, and we'll see if you guys won't want a more permanent position in my organization." Scabior sneered.

 

"Hey! We're not bloody whoremongers," Ron suddenly shouted, causing the bar to go silent. Scabior looked alarmed and slightly fearful. Harry was impressed.

 

"I understand that, Jack. Might we discuss this at my chateau?" Scabior asked. Ron nodded, and he and Harry followed the Death Eater out of the pub and into the frigid evening.

 

The word Chateau was an overstatement…a gross overstatement. Scabior led them to a rundown old house in the middle of the woods. There were no roads and no trails leading to the structure, and Harry and Ron felt the shudder of every ward they could think of pass through them when they neared the premises. Harry couldn't help but feel sick with apprehension. He had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to Ron. 

 

They walked into a smoky room, and Harry gripped his wand tightly inside of his robes. He tried to look menacing and suspicious instead of primed for a fight. There were men in dark robes all over the room, some he recognized as wanted Death Eaters, others as the missing men, and some he had never seen before in his life. He had counted for three of the missing wizards before he and Ron were lead into a dank, fecund back room. He made a mental note to acknowledge all of the names and faces later and file them away.

 

With a flick of his wand, Scabior cast a dull, yellow light around the room, and Harry found it surprisingly large. As he looked around, the bile rose so high in his throat that he could hardly swallow. There were men and women of all ages locked in cages along the walls. They were crying and wailing, some were shaking, and some even looked dead. Harry couldn’t help himself, he accidently ran into Ron's back…desperate for the reassurance of his body. 

 

"Watch it, Rick!" Ron growled, and grabbed Harry's wrist. He ran the pad of his thumb over the back of Harry's hand slightly, and it soothed him. 

 

As they trailed along the rows of cages (Harry counted twenty prisoners), Ron was flicking his wand. An almost imperceptible line of light was connecting each cage and following after them. Ron was binding each cage he could get to with magic, to try to transport as many away as quickly as possible. Harry immediately went over to the other end of the room, feigning disgusting interest in the victims over there but echoing Ron's movements. Harry bent down to pick up a large twig from the ground. He pretended to poke one of the victims with it, but really he was making a portkey. He drew the lines of light toward the portkey, and saw Ron doing the same behind his back as he leered at the women and laughed with Scabior.

 

They had managed to attach over half of the cages to their portkeys when the door slammed open. Harry couldn't help but squint at the sudden burst of light, and the victims all cowered in their cages from the rush of cold hair. Standing in the doorway were four armed Deatheaters, threatening looks on their faces, and wild paranoia in their eyes. 

 

"Oi! Scabey! Whatchu doin? Got word that Ministry's been snoopin around pubs in the village. Tryin to track us down. We need to relocate. Bleedin Harry Potter is even lurkin about!" One Death Eater exclaimed, pointing his wand at the nearest cage. Scabior immediately drew his wand, but Harry was too quick. 

 

Harry disarmed Scabior, knocking him to the ground in the process. He heard the familiar 'pop' of disapparation and saw that Ron's portkey had gone. He was battling the Death Eaters in the doorway. As Harry activated his portkey, Ron took a hit and went flying backwards into the wall. Harry ran, screaming in rage, directly for the three Deatheaters. He managed to slash evil gashes across his chest before taking a stunner in his own. He laid momentarily frozen on the ground as Ron leapt over him and continued the battle with the remaining two Deatheaters. 

 

Only the cages right by the door were left, and Harry turned his head to find one person left. She was a small girl, and couldn't be older than 12. Harry saw the flying curse and knew he had to act to get her out of the way. He stayed low to the ground, moving quickly in a squat position on the balls of his feet. He reached her cage and blasted the door open. He glanced back once more to make sure Ron was okay.

 

When he looked back at Ron, he saw the spell cut into his side. Ron's warm blood splashed on to Harry's face and he cried out along with Ron's yell of pain. White hot rage flooded through Harry, and as Ron's shaky wand finally disarmed one of the Death Eaters, the energy exploded from the tip of Harry's wand and blasted the other man clear out the door. The force caused Harry to hit the opposite wall. His vision faded to black as Ron lay pale and shaking on the dirty floor of the run down barn.

 

((((((((((()))))))))))))))

 

_Today I walked without you_  
_Like an empty bottle drifting out to sea_  
_I would change it I knew how to_  
_But it don't come that easily_

 

"I'm only a Second Year! I have no idea what to do!" Someone was shrieking and crying to Harry's right. He struggled to open his eyes and see what all the fuss was about, but he couldn't find the ability to move. Suddenly, it all came flooding back and he willed himself to roll onto his side. Once his blood was flowing and the room stopped spinning, reality slammed back into Harry and he struggled to get up.

 

"Ennervate…H…H…Harry," Ron's gurgling voice shook and sputtered. The young girl drew Ron's wand and pointed it at Harry only to gasp. Harry crawled over to Ron, grabbing his bloody hand with both of his.

 

"I'm here. We'll get backup. I'll seal you up," Harry said, a sob escaping his throat. 

 

"Tie them…" Ron whispered. Harry shot his wand in the direction of the three disabled men, ignoring the obviously dead one on the other side of the room. Then, he leaned back over to Ron and began to rip at his shirt. He tried to drown out the panicked cries of the young girl beside him.  

 

"It's okay mate. We'll get this bleeding taken care of until backup arrives," Harry said, leaning over Ron and clutching desperately at his shoulders. He sealed up the wounds with shaking, weak arms. 

 

After stopping the blood flow, Harry cast his patronus to call for help. He pictured Ron in his mind, dripping wet, holding the destroyed horcrux, and smiling triumphantly. He felt the way Ron's embrace enfolded him that night, and his patronus shot forth.

 

The energy it took to summon the Aurors with his patronus had drained Harry, and his vision blacked as he collapsed onto the floor.

 

(((((((()))))))))

 

The image played in Harry's fevered mind over and over again: Ron rushing into the line of fire, Ron's blood splashing across his face, and Ron's body shaking violently as he struggled to stay awake. Harry kept reaching out for Ron, kept running at his lifeless form, only to be flung back against the wall. After a few attempts, he screamed Ron's name in desperation. Air and electricity filled his lungs, and he shot up in bed. 

 

"Mate?" 

 

Harry was blinded by nothing but bright white. He began to sweat as he frantically searched for his glasses. His heart was racing. He needed to get out of the room and get to Ron. He began fighting with the blankets surrounding him, trying to escape. A pair of delicate hands placed his glasses on his face and everything became clear. 

 

Harry looked directly into the deep blue eyes of the mousy young girl he and Ron had found in the Death Eater hideout. He grabbed her shoulders, and she got an anxious, frightened look on her face. He was desperate to ask her what happened, but he couldn't manage to form the words. He just kept gripping her shoulders more tightly until she cried out and he heard a shuffle next to the bed.

 

"Harry," a perfect, whispered, gruff voice lingered around his ear and penetrated his tortured mind. He looked at Ron, standing with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He was even more pale than normal, but he looked…he looked alive. Harry had to swallow back a cry of relief as he wrapped his arms firmly around Ron's torso.

 

Ron made soothing noises and ran his hands up and down Harry's back. Harry's breathing slowed and his panic dissipated. All he was left with was relief and gratitude…and of course love and want threatening to break down his carefully constructed walls. He gripped Ron's white robes tightly and took a deep breath, committing his scent to memory again. Eventually Ron cleared his throat.

 

"We have company," he whispered. Harry jumped back.

 

"Oh hello!" Harry said awkwardly. The girl smiled shyly through her eyelashes. "What's your name?

 

"Maureen," she whispered, and Harry's stomach sunk at the image of the small, shaky girl he found in the cage. 

 

"Her parents said she isn't sleeping well, and she insisted on coming back until we both woke up," Ron explained, patting her on the shoulder.

 

"How long was I out?" 

 

"'Bout two days. I woke up after one day. You got a bad hit on the head," Ron said, gesturing to his own head. Harry sat down heavily on the bed. 

 

"Blimey, I didn't know," Harry said, amazed. He hadn't even felt like he had an injury until everything went dark.

 

"From what Maureen tells me, it was a might scary. You came a bit unhinged. She said you lit up like bright silver light," Ron blushed slightly. "Kinda wish I could have seen it."

 

"I'm glad you're okay," she said softly, disappearing on the other side of the curtain.

 

"That girl is like Luna without the talking. Bloody creepy. Good to see she's not going to go 'round the twist after all that happened though," Ron said, his face darkening. 

 

"What did they do with all of those people?" Harry asked, afraid to really hear the answer.

 

"They experimented on her. Made her cast spells that burned her hands. Drew her blood while she was doing magic. They wanted to prove that Muggleborns are unnatural. I'm just glad they didn't…well…some of the older women…you heard what they offered," Ron whispered, turning his head away.

 

"They all safe now?" 

 

"Everyone in the barn was accounted for, but Scabior must have woken up while we were out cold. They can't find most of the Death Eaters," Ron whispered, his jaw clenched tightly.

 

"Hey," Harry said, walking back over to him. He didn’t dare attempt another consuming embrace, and just settled for sitting closer. "It'll be okay. We'll figure this out."

 

"It just never ends," Ron groaned, his head in his hands.

 

He leaned forward and Harry let his hand fall to Ron's back. He reached up and ran his fingers over the warm, bare skin on Ron's neck. Ron sat up and looked at Harry with puzzlement. Harry couldn't help himself, and he reached up to touch the side of Ron's face. 

 

"We're okay, Harry," Ron said softly, reaching up and covering Harry's hand with his own.

 

"It was too close this time," Harry whispered. 

 

He couldn't fight it, not with Ron walking slowly away from the edge of death. Every single nerve, tendon, muscle and sense in Harry's body was keyed toward his want for Ron. He loved him too much to risk losing him and be unable to bask in his life. He grabbed Ron's face firmly and kissed him with all the emotion kept hidden behind those walls in his chest. When Ron's hand came up and his long fingers wrapped around the back of Harry's neck, he groaned and pressed his body against Ron's. 

 

Harry didn’t pause to pull away and gage Ron's expression. Ron was too easy to read, and he feared what he would see there. He just wanted…he needed anything from Ron in that moment, and couldn't handle his rejection. Ron kissed him back, ran his hands over any place on Harry's body he could reach, and even groaned in pleasure when Harry thrust his hips against his. Even if it was just for that day, Harry was going to take it.

 

Ron didn't say a word when he laid Harry back on the high hospital cot. He didn't make a sound when he flicked his wand toward the door and made sure they weren't disturbed. He didn't utter a single word as he slid Harry's robe off of his shoulders. Harry sighed in relief, pressing his skin against the warmth Ron emanated even through his robes.

 

He braved a look into Ron's eyes, and hope rose in Harry's chest. Ron was looking at him with equal lust, and Harry was sure love sparked in that reverent gaze. He wanted to make every promise and pledge he could think of, but settled for flipping them over and slamming Ron on his back. He flicked his own wand and his robes completely vanished. They both immediately cried out at the contact.

 

When Harry felt Ron’s hand wrap around his erection, he knew it wasn’t the head trauma that was making him dizzy. He whispered Ron’s name, reached up to kiss him before he began to lose all grasp of time. Ron’s tongue ran along his teeth and Harry welcomed Ron’s messy, frantic kiss as he thrust up into his hand.

 

“Ron…please. I want…can I touch you?” Harry asked, tentatively reaching down.

 

“Fuck yes,” Ron groaned. 

 

Harry gripped Ron’s long, thick cock and Ron cried out Harry’s name, burying his nose in Harry’s neck. They laid still, catching their breath until Ron began to kiss up along Harry’s jaw and he rocked into Ron’s hand. They built up a rhythm, and Harry was so happy to be in Ron’s arms he didn’t even feel embarrassed that he was about to come woefully quickly.

 

“Harry, I…”

 

“It was so close this time,” Harry whispered. Their erections brushed against one another and they both cried out in unison. After a few more quick thrusts, Harry’s entire body tensed and relaxed, and he could feel his own seed mix with Ron’s along their bare abdomens. 

 

Harry kept his eyes closed, basking in the hazy feeling, only to open them when he felt something warm and wet near his navel. He looked down to see Ron carefully washing their mess away with a warm flannel. Ron smiled sheepishly at Harry, then crawled into the hospital cot next to him and held him tightly until Harry was lulled into a calm sleep. 

 

888888888888888888888

 

_If my heart wasn't such a jungle_  
_Maybe you wouldn't feel so alone_  
_If your heart wasn't such and ocean_  
_I wouldn't sink like a stone_

 

Harry's eyes cracked open at the sound of soft footsteps on the tiled floor of the hospital room. He got his glasses on just in time to see a smiling mediwitch saunter out of the room. Harry looked down at Ron, arm draped over his naked chest, and body covered by a thin sheet, still sleeping soundly. His heart clenched and bile rose up in his throat. He needed to leave.

 

Harry did not want to leave Ron. He wanted to stay right there in that bed with him until they both faded away. But after a lifetime of running, of fighting, of betrayal and darkness, Harry knew that the old poem was right: "nothing gold can stay." He'd had evil living in his soul for a majority of his life. He had flashbacks of the cold breath of death on his back. He didn’t want to hold onto happiness only to lose it.

 

Ron would do anything for him; time and time again he proved that. But Harry couldn't risk losing his best friend. He knew that if they became lovers, eventually Harry would be too cold, too distant, and too damaged for Ron. Ron would leave him in frustration, and they would never be the same. The night before was a mistake he was intent on not repeating at any costs. 

 

The answer came just as Harry put his trousers back on and Kingsley Shackelbolt walked regally through their door.

 

((((((())))))))))

 

After Ron woke up and stretched out his arms, it only took a few moments for him to remember what happened last night, and a few more on top of that to realize Harry wasn't anywhere to be seen. He sat up and saw Hermione sitting in a seat by the window. She smiled happily and rushed over to hug him, jumping back like she'd been burned.

 

"Ron, are you naked?" She asked in a panicked tone.

 

"Yup," Ron said, scratching his head and looking around for Harry. "Harry in the loo?"

 

"No, Ron. He didn’t tell you?" Hermione said, looking puzzled. Ron shook his head. His heart began to race and he wasn’t really sure why. 

 

"Harry was sent on a mission. He floo'd over to my house, decked out in his uniform, and said he couldn’t say any more. He asked me to come and sit with you," Hermione said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Ron's face paled and his hands began to sweat. "Ron? Are you feeling okay?"

 

Ron could only hear static in his ears as his mind screamed a bevy of questions his way:

 

_Did you scare him off?_

_What were you thinking?_

_Was he disgusted?_

_Did he just do that out of pity?_

_Is he that desperate to get away from you that he couldn’t even say goodbye?_

 

"He'll be gone for at least two weeks," Hermione said, taking Ron's hands. "What happened in there? You look like you just had the life drained out of you."

 

Ron had never heard a more apt metaphor. 

 

(((()()()()()()()()()()()()

One week after Harry had vanished to do unknown Auror work, Ron found himself putting in some moonlighting hours stocking shelves at George's shop. The work was very physical, as some of the stock was too volatile to be handled with basic domestic spells, and he found it cathartic. He was less apt to kick walls in frustration if he was doing something active. If he kept himself busy enough, his failure with Harry and the potential loss of his best mate wouldn't eat at his mind.

 

George tried to get him to talk. He tried jokes, he tried more jokes, and he even tried joking. When that didn't work, George did the unthinkable and became serious. However, Ron just shrugged him off and said he was fine. He was sure George didn’t believe him, but the last thing he needed to do was tell his older brother about sexual feelings for his best mate. 

 

The bell to the shop jingled, and Ron was about to yell that they were closing when he saw Percy's curly red head bobbing through the entryway. George and Percy sat at a table set up by the window and began to talk in low whispers. Ron was still shocked at how close Percy and George had grown, considering how different they remained, but found their friendship hopeful in the face of their family's tragedy. When his two brothers started shooting glances Ron's way, he ducked back into the back room to avoid them.

 

The next morning, Ron woke up early and resolved to spend another Sunday at the shop. He paused outside of Harry's room, smiling to himself at the still unmade bed. His heart sank as he realized it looked like Harry had never left. But he had left, and Ron didn't know what things would be like when he got back. He may never have his Harry back again, not even the way things were. 

 

By the middle of the day, Ron was drenched in sweat and thoroughly distracted. When the back door creaked open, he barely registered it until Hermione was standing in front of him. Her hands were on her hips, and she wore a mocking smirk, but he could see the concern behind her warm stare. He turned his head away for fear that she could see right through him.

 

"Go upstairs and get cleaned up. You're taking me to lunch," Hermione commanded. When Ron didn't move, she lifted her eyebrows and folded her arms. That did it. 

 

They walked down the crowded street at the heart of Diagon until they found their way to The Leaky Cauldron. Ron looked for a table, but Hermione shook her head and lead him out into Muggle London. They found a quaint café a few blocks away and she ordered them some tea. Ron just sat there, ready for whatever barrage of questions and comments she had prepared for him. 

 

"George owled me, Ron," Hermione said, placing a hand over his on the table. Ron sighed inwardly and met her eyes. "What's going on?"

 

"It's nothing. I just…it's just…"

 

"Listen, Ron. You went through a lot. You were sliced open!" Hermione started.

 

"I've been sliced open before," Ron commented. Hermione paled and looked away. 

 

"Yes and it was awful," she whispered. Ron squeezed her hand, feeling bad for the glib statement.

 

"It wasn’t about the fight," Ron mumbled, taking a bite of the sandwich that was placed in front of him in hopes that he didn’t have to talk. He looked up at her, and met her deep brown eyes. She looked so worried about him, so caring, that his heart hurt a little. He couldn’t deny that he trusted her with his life, and in that moment, he just wanted to pour out his heart to someone. The entirety of what happened between he and Harry was threatening to make him explode. 

 

"Ron?" Hermione said, taking his other hand. "Please tell me what happened. You know you can't let things fester inside. You have a tendency to explode."

 

"It was…well, after Harry woke up, we kind of…we sort of…there was touching and kissing and it felt amazing and then he disappeared!" Ron let it out in one breath and waited for Hermione's shocked gasps and protestations. He heard only silence. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to look at Hermione even as his face burned. She had an unreadable expression on her face. 

 

"Oh, Ron," she whispered, moving to the other side of the table and sitting next to him. "You and Harry have always been inching toward something like this."

 

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, shocked that she wasn't more shocked.

 

"He's devoted to you, just as much as you're devoted to him," she said softly. 

 

"Obviously you're wrong, Hermione," he answered sadly. "He left without saying goodbye. He probably got all freaked out and never wants to look at me again." The prospect sunk Ron so low that he just wanted to give up on getting through the rest of the day.

 

"Don't think the worst, Ron, as hard as that is for you," Hermione smiled gently. "You know how Harry is. He's probably brooding, and doubting. He just needs more time. He'll be sorted out when he comes back."

 

Ron was doubtful, but he took her embrace and her words as comfort. The rest of the week was much less painless, despite going slowly. When the day came for Harry to return, Ron nearly couldn’t contain his excitement. 

 

((())

_If you weren't so far from me_  
_I could hold you while you're sleeping_

_And hear you breathing softly_  
_And be there when you're waking_

 

Ron, Hermione, George and Percy were waiting in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place for Harry to return. The door slammed open and Ron leapt to his feet, instantly embarrassed by his excitement. As his face burned, Hermione smiled joyously at him and eased his tension a bit. When Harry crossed the threshold of the room and everyone greeted him, Ron rushed forward to hug him.

 

Harry dodged his arms, clapping him on the shoulder and grinning. "Alright, mate?"

 

Ron felt his stomach tie in knots, he swallowed back and lump and smiled to Harry. He moved away to let the others greet him. Harry had made his decision; Ron could see it in his stare. Harry wanted to avoid that anything ever happened between them, and if Ron was going to keep his best friend, he resolved to go along with it. 

 

After everyone had left, and Ron tried to quell Hermione's concerned looks with his own nonchalant gaze that probably wasn't fooling her, he and Harry sat down to a dinner Kreacher was so gracious to prepare. The food barely registered on Ron's palette, but he ate like it was the greatest thing he had ever tasted. He didn't say a word. He couldn't say a word.

 

"I haven't had a hot meal in two weeks!" Harry said. "Wish I could say more about what was going on, but there's a binding spell."

 

"S'alright," Ron grumbled. Harry ignored his strange behavior. 

 

They sat in the living room after dinner, Harry catching up on the Prophet and Ron listening to the Wasps vs. Harpies match on the wireless. There was some polite conversation about the headlines, but nothing else. Ron knew if he didn’t act soon, even his friendship would be lost. He started ranting to Harry about the game. 

 

They got into a rousing discussion of Quidditch plays, and when the night was drawing to a close and they began yawning, Ron said a casual goodnight. He scratched his belly, stretched his arms, and told Harry in a very platonic way that he was glad to see him back. Then, he walked up the stairs to his bed. 

 

Ron cast silencing charms around his room, an imperturbable charm on his door, and a locking ward for good measure. Then, Ron yelled until he couldn't feel his throat anymore. He hit the wall until his knuckles bled and fought with the punching bag he kept in the corner of his room. He only collapsed on the bed when he was exhausted, and willed the tears to keep away from his eyes as he drifted off to sleep.

 

( ((()))))))))

 

_If my heart wasn't such a jungle_  
_Maybe you wouldn't feel so alone_  
_If your heart wasn't such and ocean_  
_I wouldn't sink like a stone_

 

"I've got to send you back to Holland, Harry," Kingsley said as soon as Harry shut the door to his office. 

 

"I figured as much," Harry answered, trying to disguise the bitterness in his voice.

 

"I know nothing happened last time, but the tip we are working on now has a much more definite location. You'll be running surveillance under cover again, but this time I'll be bringing in some of our unspeakable operatives," The Minister explained. 

 

"Unspeakables?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. He hadn't handled a case with the Unspeakable department yet, and had only heard wild eyed fairytales about them from the more seasoned Aurors.

 

"Yes. It turns out the blood experiments they were doing on the muggles was a method recognized by the Department of Mysteries. They had apparently been doing work on the origin of magic in organic matter, and the process young Maureen had described was astoundingly similar to one they had used to strip magic from some plants and animals. We are beginning to think that is where they are headed with their intentions. It's not just another dark rising and another purist movement. This has just gotten infinitely more dangerous," he finished gravely, handing Harry a file. 

 

After reviewing the file, Harry felt completely sick. It was the belief of the Auror department and the Department of Mysteries that this new movement of Death Eaters intended to develop a way to strip the 'undeserving' of their magic. Harry thought of Hermione, burning brilliantly and fighting by his side, and he steeled his resolve. He'd spend the rest of his life in Holland if it meant she'd never have to lose her magic. 

 

He was given his travel instructions, bonded by a new spell, and sent on his way. He was to leave in 1 hour. He had only enough time to pack the essentials and settle his affairs. He thought of Ron and hated himself for being relieved that he didn’t have to face his best mate after the huge mess he made of their relationship. It was obvious Ron was just as relieved. Harry hated himself for trying, for being weak enough to put Ron in that situation. A few weeks away on a mission would do him good.

 

Harry walked quickly through the halls, trying to make it to the floo so he could grab his things and meet his portkey. He sighed inwardly when he heard Hermione's familiar walk fall into step beside him. He knew she'd be angry he was leaving again. 

 

"I've been sent on another secret mission," Harry said, hoping she would back away and let him get his stuff together.

 

"Of course you have. It helps to avoid what's going on, doesn't it?" She said coldly. Harry froze in his tracks.

 

"He told you?"

 

"Of course he did! You don't think…" Hermione began.

 

"Stop right there, Hermione. I can't do this. I just can't. Not right now," Harry said, lifting his hand up.

 

"You'll never do it Harry. You'll never face what happened. You just…" She started again, but Harry interrupted.

 

"I can't lose him, Hermione. He's my…he's my Ron," Harry said, defeated. Hermione shook her head vigorously, but Harry went on. "I'll only hurt him. All of this anger, this bitterness, the getting caught in my own head…he doesn't need that. He'll get frustrated and leave me one day."

 

With that, Harry backed into the floo to fetch his things and go back to Holland. He couldn't bear to look Ron in the eye long enough to say goodbye, so he left without a word.

 

(((()))))

Harry got to his designated post and dropped his pack heavily. It was another run down cottage. But at least this one had a muggle heater and some electricity. A fire may draw attention, but an appliance wouldn't make any wizard turn his head. He immediately began playing with the dials. When he heard footsteps, he drew his wand despite expecting two Unpeakables to walk through the door. 

 

"Oi Harry!" Seamus Finnegan said, grinning and running toward him. Harry closed his mouth long enough to hug his former roommate and stare at him gobsmacked. 

 

"I didn't know you were an unspeakable," he said dumbly.

 

"Do I have to point out that certainly we can't speak about it?" Seamus said, lifting a light blonde eyebrow. "This is my partner, Edwin Giles."

 

Harry shook the partner's hand, suddenly warmer and looking forward to his mission a slight bit more. They settled into some quiet, took out their rations, and discussed their plans for the mission. They were to track the movements of the detected Death Eater cell, and when they pinpointed a location, they had to report for backup, and begin setting up a perimeter to get the dangerous criminals apprehended. The problem was, they had no idea where the headquarters were, and their search was spinning in many directions around their post. 

 

When they had settled a focus on the eastern side of the little Dutch village to begin with, they resolved to get some rest and then enter the village under heavy disguises to begin asking questions. Giles was snoring immediately. Harry set up his sleeping pad, but Seamus was still up composing a letter at the table. 

 

"Why don't you get some rest?" Harry asked.

 

"Sure sure. I just need to write Dean a note so he knows I'm alright. He worries."

 

"How can you communicate?"

 

"I can't speak of it."

 

Harry threw a pillow at Seamus' head. "Why does Dean get so worried?"

 

"He always gets antsy when I'm not there to warm his bed," Seamus said casually.

 

"Wait, what?" Harry felt immediately ridiculous for sounding so surprised after what he saw on New Year’s Eve. 

 

"Like you didn't know we'd eventually be buggerin’ each other…well…he buggers me mostly," Seamus said, winking.

 

Harry just shook his head, too shocked to speak. Here it was: evidence that he was a fool for turning Ron away and for avoiding his own feelings. Seamus and Dean were together and obviously happy. Their lives were no picnic in the final legs of the war either, but they managed to stay together…to stay friends and become lovers. Harry tried to tell himself that he and Ron were different, that Ron was just going through a phase and could never want him as a permanent lover, but the little voice in the back of his head began to grow more loudly. It only ever said one word: Ron. 

 

The beginning of the mission was a silent one. Harry was lost in his own head, fighting with himself over the success of Dean and Seamus' relationship, and his own doubts about being in love with his best mate. Obviously there was something there, otherwise what happened in the hospital would have never happened. He, Seamus, and Giles logged everything they saw in the village without speaking much, but soon, they managed to draw some conclusions.

 

"Well, we've seen three known Death Eaters coming from the East over and over again, and unless they are actively trying to divert us, that's the direction we need to go in," Harry said authoritatively. They immediately began to map out the county, looking up all registered and unregistered buildings from the smallest Muggle outbuilding, to the stately wizarding residence 25 miles outside of town. 

 

They didn't separate and search the destinations they had pinpointed. Given the brutal nature of previous crimes and the intentions of the criminals, it was much safer to stay in a collected group and monitor each site. A few locations went by with no information, and then at a old Muggle crofter cottage one mile from the village, Seamus suddenly tensed. Harry grabbed his arm. 

 

"I can feel it, the spell, it crackles in your veins," He whispered, shuddering. "They're trying to strip someone right now."

 

"We've got to go in there," Giles said, drawing his wand and leaping forward. Harry saw a vision of Ron's blood soaked robes and grabbed his arm. 

 

"We can't do that, mate. There are too many. Last time I tried, I nearly died. Let's send patronuses to our departments for backup," Harry commanded quietly. 

 

He and Giles did just that. They turned to Seamus to see him standing completely frozen, muttering under his breath, his wand drawn against his wrist on the inside of his sleeve. Harry couldn't see any spells emanating from his wand, but the air seemed to wave and falter around them, like heat was rising from Seamus' hand. Harry stood, puzzled, wanting to help but not wanting to speak up for fear that he would break whatever Seamus was trying to do. 

 

"He's delivering the counter curse in a more liquefied way, trying to penetrate the wards. He hasn't succeeded yet. We're running out of time," Gile's voice was reeking with desperation, and Harry wondered if there was an even more personal stake for him than there was for the rest of them. 

 

Suddenly, Seamus' entire body went rigid. His eyes opened and they shone white. Just as he was falling backwards, the backup Aurors and unspeakables showed up. Giles charged toward the cottage, and Harry caught Seamus and laid him gently on the ground. He lay in the snow with his eyes wide and unfocused for a moment before his body spasmed and jumped. Harry pulled him up into his arms to try to ease the shaking. 

 

The Aurors and Unspeakables were in and out in a matter of minutes. Calling for backup had been a wise choice. The ring was rounded up, and everyone was taken away before any real damage had been done. Robards came up to Harry while he was still calming Seamus to tell him they captured everyone but Scabior. Harry swore loudly. 

 

"I'm going to fucking kill him with my bare hands when we finally get a hold of him," Harry said, anger seething through his teeth as he was once again barraged with subconscious images of Ron lying bleeding on a dirty wooden floor. 

 

"You need to go home and rest for a while, Harry. We'll discuss Scabior on Monday. Four days off will do you well," Robards said, smiling. Harry began to rub Seamus' back to rouse him. He cracked open his eyes.

 

"Blimey, Harry. Didn’t know you swung that way," Seamus said in a rough, sore voice. 

 

"You'd be surprised," Harry said lowly. Seamus just lifted his eyebrows. 

 

"I think I might have broken it in time," Seamus said, struggling to get up. Harry held out a steady arm for Seamus before pulling himself up out of the snow. He cast a drying charm on them both. At that moment Giles came out with a young woman in his arms. Seamus looked at him questioningly, and his partner gave him back a hopeful look and a slight nod. Seamus nearly sagged back to the snow in relief.

 

"You have got to show me how to liquefy your curses like that," Harry said, amazed and not a little jealous.

 

"Actually, we just started the research. I'm going to get in a load of trouble when the bosses find out I used an improperly developed new method. But of course we'll share once it's worked out," Seamus smiled. 

 

"C'mon. Let's get you back to Dean," Harry clapped him on the shoulder. 

 

"Wanna join us at the pub? I need a bloody strong pint after all that. Dean can meet us there," Seamus asked, still looking pale and drawn. 

 

Harry nodded vigorously, desperate for any reason to avoid the silent and awkward home he had to look forward to. Getting good and pissed would be one way to ensure no horribly painful encounter when he finally made it back to Grimmauld. Seamus gave him the coordinates to a place near where he and Dean lived, and Harry apparated there shortly after Seamus vanished. 

 

Seamus plopped down heavily next to Harry instead of across from him and took a large swig from his ale. Harry joined him, glancing back at Seamus cautiously to make sure he was steady enough to be left to his own devices. Harry had just begun to take another drink of his tangy, bubbly ale when he felt Seamus' hand on his thigh. Harry enjoyed a novel touch there for a moment before he realized what was going on. He pulled away.

 

"Bloody hell, Seamus! What about Dean?" Harry yelled, pressing back into the corner of the booth as Seamus switched sides.

 

"Dean and me are in love, we're best mates, and we're randy. We like to play…" Seamus said matter-of-factly. "I just wanted to see if it was true."

 

"What?" Harry asked dumbly, suddenly too distracted by the subtle quirk of Seamus' lips and his smooth skin. 

 

"That ye're a flamin poof of course!" Seamus said, lifting his glass as if to toast. His hand still shook slightly.

 

"I'm…I don't…what?" Harry stuttered, finally tipping back the rest of his own drink to ease the tension.

 

"Well ye weren't disgusted when I touched yer leg, and you didn't even pull back until it occurred to you I had a man. I think that is leaning toward gay, Harry," Seamus said, looking quizzical. "After yer comment in the snow, I assumed you were a bit more self aware than that."

 

"I don't…no one…"

 

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Harry. That's yer business," Seamus said gently, his body perked up as he spied something over Harry's shoulder.

 

Harry turned around to see Dean frantically making his way through the crowd. In a blur Dean had flown across the room toward Seamus, wrapping his arms around him so tightly Harry was sure Seamus' head would pop off. Seamus just smiled a relieved smile and gripped Dean with equal fervor. Dean pulled back and ran a long, dark hand over Seamus' pale face. 

 

"What happened?" He whispered, looking Seamus over.

 

"Just overdid it a bit, no one hurt me," Seamus answered, leaning slightly into the touch. He cleared his throat and moved his head in Harry's direction.

 

"Hey Harry! I didn't see you there! Were you on the 'I can't speak about it' mission with Shay?" Dean said, clapping Harry on the shoulder and blushing slightly. To Dean's credit, he didn’t make excuses for the soppy show of affection and kept a hand on Seamus' shoulder. 

 

"Yeah, we were assigned to each other. Got em though…almost all of them," Harry explained happily. He clenched his jaw to hide his frustration about Scabior.

 

Dean flagged down the waitress, ordered three drinks, and sat down with Seamus across from Harry. They sat close together, but after the initial greeting, kept the affection to a minimum. Harry wondered if they felt awkward around him. He couldn't help but picture their bodies intertwined, writhing against each other, the defined muscles under their skin rippling with exertion. He shook his head. He really had to start getting out more. 

 

"So…." Seamus said, staring back at Harry like he was something delicious to eat. "Guess who's queer?"

 

"Oh who!' Dean asked excitedly. Seamus just looked at Harry.

 

"You said you weren't going to tell anyone!" Harry said, though he wasn't very upset about the concept of Dean knowing. He couldn't help but lick his lips as he pictured himself sandwiched in between them.

 

"Blimey, Harry. You?" Dean said, staring at Harry with undisguised curiosity. Harry suddenly felt very exposed. .

 

"Bloody win for our team if I do say so myself," Seamus practically growled as he took another swig of his drink. 

 

"What?" Harry asked, completely lost, and embarrassed. 

 

"You're gorgeous, Harry. A regular work of art. That hair…those eyes…and your arse!" Dean said, gaining a dreaming expression that unsettled Harry.

 

"Needless to say it's come up in bedroom conversation," Seamus winked and smiled. 

 

Suddenly, it was coming up inside of Harry's head as well. Dean's strong, long body pressed up against Harry's, his dark and smooth skin sliding against Harry's own. He could picture Seamus' short, cut body on the other side, his lips running up and down Harry's neck and hitting that spot where his shoulder and neck meets that drives him wild. It had been so long since Harry had been with anyone else; he was instantly pulsing at the thought. He needed to try to shake the notion.

 

"So how did you two end up together?" Harry asked as casually as possible, taking a long drink of something flavorful and strong that was placed in front of him.

 

"We were always kind of together," Dean said, smiling shyly.

 

"It takes facing extermination to really get the love flowin’ I guess," Seamus answered wryly. When Harry looked at him questioningly, Seamus elaborated. "Dean's a Muggleborn. He had to hide for a whole year. He could have been caught and killed at anytime. I didn't know. I had no way to know." Seamus shuddered and Dean gripped his hand tightly. 

 

"You had your own trials," Dean said, running his hand over the side of Seamus' face. Harry remembered seeing Seamus for the first time in the Room of Requirement after so long away and noticing the awful bruise that took up such a vast area on his face. He shuddered as well.

 

"Anyway, when faced with that kind of year, shit really gets put in perspective," Seamus said, finishing off what had to be his sixth pint. 

 

"You're so charming," Dean quipped.

 

Harry smiled wide. It put a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind to see two best mates make the leap to lovers so naturally. But he realized that he and Ron had gone through their own hell that year, and Ron fell into Hermione's arms, not his. Harry knew that if something were meant to happen, it would have happened then. Trying anything now would just hurt them both and Harry would lose Ron forever.

 

"So d'you wanna come home with us?" Seamus suddenly said. Dean gasped and bit his lip. Harry looked at Dean's full mouth and Seamus' playful smirk and couldn't say no. 

 

They walked out of the pub and Harry jumped when he felt Seamus' arms wrap around his waist. Seamus was the same height as him, and his breath was warm against Harry's neck. He closed his eyes and felt the familiar pull of apparation. Before he could get too uncomfortable, he landed on a soft rug. 

 

Their flat looked like any other flat where two blokes lived. They had nice modern furniture that looked a little messy with throw pillows and clothes strewn about. The walls were clean and white, but dotted with some of the most beautiful artwork Harry had ever seen. The paintings ranged from magical landscapes that moved with the weather, to splashes of color and wild shapes on stark canvas. He couldn't help but swivel his head around and stare.

 

"Dean may be a clerk at Gringotts, but he's an artist at heart," Seamus whispered proudly in Harry's ear. Dean blushed next to him.

 

"They are amazing," Harry said in awe.

 

Seamus went to get some wine from the adjoining kitchen while Harry walked up to a particular red and abstract painting full of slashes and splashes of dark, bloody paint. He turned and looked at Dean, ready to ask what the painting meant when Dean held up his hand and shook his head. Harry furrowed his brow, worried he had offended his hosts.

 

"You don't want to know, Harry." Dean explained, a haunted look in his eyes. 

 

"Before my homecoming takes a decidedly dark turn, who wants wine?" Seamus said, handing Harry and Dean their glasses. The wine was warm and spiced and perfect for a cold winter night.

 

"Mmmm" Seamus moaned as he swallowed. Dean turned his head and dribbled some of the claret liquid down his chin. Seamus reached up and licked away the stray drop. Harry felt his stomach clench in anticipation. Sensing Harry's emotion, Seamus met his eyes and pushed him backwards until his knees hit the couch. 

 

Harry’s heart was racing as Seamus began to kiss him tentatively, with remarkable gentleness for the situation. Harry’s arms were heavy with nerves, but the unease left his body the moment he felt Dean’s hands slide over his shoulders from the back of the couch.  He leaned his head back and arched into Dean’s touch, enjoying the feeling of both men’s lips on his searing skin

 

Harry never really discussed his sexuality with anyone, not even Ron or Hermione. It was hard enough trying to explain how he and Ginny fell apart than to explain that he thought he might be attracted to men. After he and decided they were better off as friends, Harry had gone out to a couple of nondescript Muggle clubs looking for someone who felt right, but finding nothing. Ginny was the only woman he’d been with, but he had taken home a couple of blokes. It had never gone beyond blowjobs, but Harry was sure he wanted to be with a man. The problem was, he had a specific man in mind.

 

He knew he could never be with Ron, and the smell and feel and taste of Dean and Seamus was so welcoming that as someone’s hands raked up and down his chest, pushing up his tee shirt, Harry let it come. He was ready to let go and find an embrace wherever he could. He leaned up and kissed Dean firmly on the lips, reveling in the appreciative groan from the taller wizard at his actions.

 

 Harry lifted his arms and allowed his shirt to be pulled over his head. He heard Seamus mutter something appreciative under his breath and let out a loud cry as the other wizard ran his tongue up Harry’s chest in one swift motion. His body was alight with tension and overwhelmed with sensitivity as he felt Dean carefully caress his face and Seamus brush his teeth over one nipple. 

 

“Fuck you two look so perfect right now,” Dean whispered. Seamus looked up and Dean and smiled in such an intense way that Harry thought for a moment that he should leave. 

 

“Um, I, well…”

 

“Let’s go in the bedroom,” Dean whispered in Harry’s ear, causing Harry to shudder and almost leap up in compliance. 

 

Seamus led the way, and feeling bold, Harry caught up with him and pressed against Seamus’ ass as he walked. Seamus paused in the doorway and thrust back into Harry, causing Harry to gasp. When he felt Dean’s erection press against the back of his jeans, Harry leaned back again. Seamus moved into the room and quickly shed his clothing; He stood naked and smiling next to a large, white bed. 

 

Harry felt Dean’s hands come around his waist and undo the clasp on his jeans. They fell to the floor with a quiet whoosh. He watched as Seamus shed his clothes slowly, to murmurs of appreciation and encouragement from Dean. Seamus sauntered toward Harry, a mischievous grin on his face. As Harry was distracted by the prospect of going farther sexually than he ever had with a man before, he felt warmth engulf his swollen cock. 

 

He looked down to see Dean’s head bobbing up and down, and he cried out in shock. He had been so distracted by Seamus’ approaching that he didn’t realize Dean had maneuvered below him. Seamus kissed Harry passionately, pausing every now and then to grip Dean’s head firmly and press him into Harry. Harry was shocked at the rough treatment, but Dean seemed so into it that he kept rubbing the generous bulge in his jeans. 

 

It was all incredibly overwhelming for Harry. He couldn’t focus on one thing, and his heart raced with apprehension. But despite the nerves that raked across his body in waves, the promise of more touching, or feeling, and more desire had him plunging in. He grabbed the back of Seamus’ head and kissed him hard, reaching down to brush his hand lightly up and down the shorter wizard’s shaft.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Harry opened his eyes and was surprised to find there was no pounding in his head. Considering how much he'd drank, he knew he was getting off lucky. He rolled over, remembering the previous night, and his heart clenched at the sight that greeted him. 

 

Dean and Seamus were on the other side of the bed. Dean's head rested on Seamus' chest as they breathed deeply in unison. Their right hands were clasped and there was a slight smile on both of their faces. Despite how much he had done last night, Harry suddenly felt more alone than he had felt since he lived on Privet Drive. The empty ache in his chest was getting larger and weighing heavily on him and he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He tried desperately not to picture himself curled up like that with Ron.

 

Harry lay there contemplating how to best get out of that flat without disturbing his friends when Dean lifted his head and met Harry's eyes. Harry smiled and put his arms behind his head, trying his best to look casual. After all, he wasn't going to turn down more of what happened last night if the offer was made. 

 

"Who's haunting those eyes?" Dean asked softly. Seamus groaned beneath him. Harry froze in place, as though moving would give away his secret.

 

"Uhhh, do you have to be so damn artistic this early in the morning?" Seamus said, pulling the covers back up over his legs. 

 

"Yes, we do," Dean said, and silently summoned his painting supplies. He stood up; his dark, naked body lit by the rising sun, and placed himself in front of the canvas. "Seamus, stop posing. I'm painting Harry." Harry blushed and looked away, trying to avoid Dean's scrutiny.

 

"Harry, just think about who you were thinking about a few moments ago. I want to capture that look on your face," Dean said gently. 

 

Harry felt exposed, and hung out to dry, but he couldn't resist more free thoughts of Ron. Dean and Seamus knew his secret, at least partially, and Harry wanted to revel in the thoughts. He trusted that Dean would keep the painting to himself, and it somehow gave Harry security to know that somewhere in the world his feelings were captured…a record of something he could never say out loud. 

 

_I have yet to meet another_  
_Who burns bright as you_  
_I'm not looking for any other_  
_I only want you_

 

When the sun was higher in the sky, Harry slipped away from Dean and Seamus. He ate a perfect breakfast of eggs Benedict that made his mouth water, and then he made his way back home. His heart raced as he thought of Ron, possibly still in bed as it was Sunday, with his hair messed up and his face warm and blushing under the heat of the covers. Harry seriously debated crawling in between the sheets with him before he realized he was being delirious. He settled for popping his head inside of Ron's bedroom door. 

 

After the floo shot him in across the living room, Harry looked around to see if anyone had seen that, and when he saw that he wasn't in any of the downstairs rooms, he rushed upstairs to tell Ron he was back. When he got to Ron's door, there was a hastily-written note stuck to the door:

 

_Mate,_

_If you're reading this, you're home! George bought Zonko's and we're having a celebratory brunch in Hogsmeade. Come on over!_

_-Ron_

 

 Harry was shocked that George had moved so quickly. He had only heard the notion of purchasing Zonko's mentioned once, in passing, as something that would be good to do. He didn't know that George had something in the works already. He smiled and stepped back toward the floo, grabbing some powder and shouting out 'The Hog's Head' before spinning back into the fireplace.

 

He came out to the smell of even more breakfast and the sounds of cheerful conversation. George shouted his name and flung an arm around his shoulders. Harry was relieved that George obviously didn't know a lot about what happened between him and Ron and gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. He made his way through various Weasley family members, embracing and sharing a good laugh, all the while searching for Ron.

 

He finally spotted Ron sitting on a bench next to a stocky, attractive man. He had sandy blonde hair and freckles, not like Ron's, but more like a dusting on his face. He had a wide smile and warm eyes that were focused solely on Ron as though he were the only person in the room. Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach when this mystery man grabbed Ron's forearm gently, and as Ron turned away and blushed, he ran circles over Ron’s' pale skin with his thumb. Harry suddenly felt sick and made his way to the floo.

 

"Harry!" Hermione called out, blocking his route to the fireplace as she appeared in front of him. "I'm so glad you're home. Are you okay?"

 

"'M fine, Hermione," Harry murmured. He tried not to look over at Ron and the mystery man, but he couldn't help himself. 

 

"His name's Clark. He's about to start at Hogwarts as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. I filed his paperwork last week for certification," Hermione smiled broadly. "He met Ron the other day at The Ministry and was immediately taken. Couldn't stop asking questions about him. I'm about to go tell Ron he's interested as subtly as possible. Unless…" Hermione's pause and lifted eyebrows were unmistakable.

 

"Unless what, Hermione?" Harry asked, turning his head to move away from her piercing gaze.

 

"Nothing at all," Hermione snapped, walking away. "Oh, and you might want to check yourself in the mirror. It seems that whomever you were with last night left signs of their conquest."

 

Harry instinctively grabbed for his neck and ran to the bathroom. Sure enough, a massive hickey was showing just below his ear. He quickly healed it and went back into the party to try to explain to Hermione. When he came out she was snuggled up in a corner with her tall, dark, and handsome Lawrence. He looked over to see Ron leaving the pub with Clark, the man's hand hovering around Ron's lower back. 

 

Harry went to Aberforth and ordered a stiff drink, not bothering to make small talk with his old friend. He sunk heavily onto a stool and put his head in his hands. All of his reasons for not being with Ron made no sense in the harsh light of reality, and Harry was beginning to drown in self-loathing. He knew Ron would be better off without him, with someone more stable, but Harry didn't know if he could live without Ron. The best he could hope for is that their friendship would still be going strong despite everything that lay under the surface.

 

He had to be happy for Ron, but Harry vowed that he could never love anyone the way he loved Ron. He'd rather be alone, living out his life with his two best friends and never having a lover. Ron and Hermione deserved to be happy, and though Harry didn't feel like he deserved them, he would be happy with them and for them no matter what storm clouds ravaged his mind. 

 

((((()))))))((((())))))

Ron Weasley arched his neck as Clark's lips crawled along his jaw line. His fingertips were lingering under the band of Ron's jeans, and he was breathing heavily in Ron's ear. Ron shook as he lifted his hands to the clasps of Clark's robes, trying to focus on the task at hand to mask his nervousness. 

 

He had been seeing the Professor for nearly two months now, and things were finally progressing to the physical. Clark was great. He listened to Ron, laughed at his jokes, and was always mindful of Ron's inexperience with men. Ron basked in the way Clark looked at him, so full of desire and adoration. It was good that Clark loved Quidditch as much as he did, and was just as good at defensive spells. It meant a lot of training in the off time and a lot of listening to matches on the wireless. 

 

Before he realized it, Ron found himself shirtless on Clark's bed at Hogwarts as Clark's chiseled body hovered over his. He felt a bit self conscious, thoroughly aware of his own thin body and slightly visible ribcage. His partner put that notion to rest immediately with the hungry look in his eyes. Ron found it both arousing and unsettling. When Clark slipped his jeans and pants off of his body, Ron was nervous and excited in equal measure. 

 

As Clark slowly shook out of the rest of his clothing, a grin spreading across his face, Ron tried to ignore the nagging thoughts in the back of his head screaming "He's too tall, his hair is too neat, he's too blonde, and where are his glasses?" Harry made it very clear what he wanted, and it wasn’t Ron. Clark wanted him, and Ron wanted to feel important to someone in that way. He moaned loudly when Clark's mouth engulfed his erection.

 

It all moved too quickly after that and Ron's head was spinning. Clark was sucking him one second, and licking behind his balls the next. A dexterous finger was probing around Ron's entrance and he became incredibly nervous. When Clark's finger penetrated him, he tensed up and gripped his lover's shoulder tightly. 

 

"Just relax, love. I'm not going to hurt you," Clark whispered, pressing kisses to the inside of Ron's thigh.

 

“I just…I’ve never…”

 

“I know, Ron." Clark said, his big eyes staring up at Ron’s with tenderness and that feral hunger. "We don’t have to do everything tonight. I just want to see you come. Your face is so beautiful, I’d love to see it twisted up with pleasure,” He smiled, still kissing up and down Ron’s leg.

 

Ron was a little put off by his words. Something just didn’t feel right, and Clark had a way of speaking that made him uneasy. However, Ron chalked it up to his nerves and placed his hand on Clark’s messy blonde hair…anything to feel wanted. He’d worry about the rest later. 

 


	2. Miles From Where You Are

  
Author's notes: Here's the end! Sorry I had to split it up in two, but it was very long. Thank you for all the lovley reviews!  


* * *

**PART II: Miles from Where You Are**

_I find the map and draw a straight line_  
_Over rivers, farms, and state lines_  
_The distance from A to where you'd B_  
_It's only finger-lengths that I see_  
_I touch the place where I'd find your face_  
_My fingers in creases of distant dark places_

 

The first time Ron came home smelling like _him_ Harry started in again on making excuses to work late. The first time _his_ voice echoed from Ron's bedroom, Harry warded his room and didn’t come down for breakfast until he heard the 'pop' of apparation. It sometimes meant not seeing Ron, but he couldn't handle facing Ron with another person, holding another person, when he so desperately wanted Ron to hold him. 

 

Even though he knew Ron didn't come home the night before, Harry still woke up early with the intention of getting a head start at work. He tried to ignore the pull from his nightstand as he showered, shaved, and put on his Auror robes. However, by the time he was ready for breakfast, he was so alone and so desperate that he couldn't swallow back the urge anymore. He pulled out his Marauder's map and looked for Ron's name. 

 

It hurt when he finally found Ron's little name nestled comfortably beside Clark's in his chambers. Harry watched as Ron apparently woke, got ready, and walked down to the floo. Harry watched Ron's name linger next to Clark's for a moment before leaving, and he closed his eyes to imagine his own goodbye kiss in the morning. He quickly shook his head, silently berating himself for behaving with such delusional before he made his way to work. He didn't want to meet Ron in case he had to stop home to get anything.

 

Harry wanted to see Ron, to sit next to him and laugh with him like they used to, but he ruined that on that night in the hospital. He could never have Ron back fully and he could never fully have Ron the way he wanted. As he folded up the map carefully, Harry decided to do his best to repair his friendship with Ron. He needed something, even if he never got to touch Ron the way he wanted to. 

 

8888888888

 

Ron woke up holding tightly to Clark. He smelled strongly of the cedar wood he liked to stoke his hearth with and curse burns from his rigorous class schedule. Ron longed for the smell of musk and sweetness that routinely wafted off of Harry, but he swallowed that notion down, hating himself and feeling like he was betraying Clark just for letting those thoughts show up. He wanted to make him happy…he wanted to make someone happy.

 

Ron got his uniform on and went to work straight from Hogwarts. Luckily there was a floo the professors used that is connected to the Ministry network. The moment he arrived at work, he was sent to investigate an illegal potions ring. He didn't even have time to see Harry in his office before he was out the front door. He hadn't gotten to see much of Harry, even in their shared flat. His heart sank a little, as seeing Harry in the morning was still the highlight of his day, even if he had spent his night somewhere else.

 

(((((((((((())))))))))))))))

 

He barely noticed his surroundings as he flooed into work. Harry walked into Kingsley's office, expecting another day's long undercover mission of some sorts. He still didn't understand how the most conspicuous member of the Auror Squad were always doing the undercover work, but Kingsley had said that Harry had experience in methods of stealth that few Aurors ever develop. He couldn't argue with that logic. He sat down in the warm mahogany chair and waited for Kingsley to come back from his lunch with the Ministry Council.

 

"I would like you to learn magical fission," Kingsley said without preamble. 

 

At first, Harry was puzzled, and then he remembered the way Seamus had liquefied his curses to penetrate the Death Eater magic in Holland and he understood. "Down with the Unspeakables?"

 

Kingsley nodded. "The tactic Unspeakable Finnegan employed when he was trying to stop the stripping curse had success, and we think if the Death Eater numbers can be reduced even farther down than they were on your last mission, we may have a shot at ending their run all together. However, as you saw, the spell can be draining and potentially harmful when being held by only one person. We need a few more people trained as a precaution."

 

Harry made his way to the Department of Mysteries with a transfer folder and a mission docket. He had one day to learn this new technique, and then it was to the Siberian Plains to follow the lead on Scabior and his men. He looked for Ron before making his way to the lower floors, in hopes that he could at least explain himself this time, but to no avail. He sighed and called out his destination to the lifts. 

 

 The lift cage rattled slightly, and rocky debris began to fall from the ceiling. Harry had an uneasy feeling that this wasn’t a maintenance issue. He commanded the lift to go back to the main floor as the two other inhabitants of the elevator gripped the metal bars nervously. While the lift made its journey back, the shaking became more powerful and Harry could hear the faint echo of screams through the chamber.

 

He drew his wand just as the lights went out and the screaming got more pronounced. As he stepped out of the gate and onto the polished marble floor, people kept running into him in a panic and he had to place a shield charm around him just to get through the throng. The lights of curses from wand tips shone through the black room like bolts of lightning against thunderclouds. A group of wizards dressed in white Muggle winter gear that looked like it came from the 19th century were standing back to back in a corner of the large hall. Harry saw immediately what they were going for. 

 

Someone must have tipped them off to the new spell techniques the Unspeakables were conducting, because they were desperately trying to break through the entryway to the Department of Mysteries. Harry was certain that they saw the threat to their efforts to strip magic and they were trying to put an end to it before it began. He ran over to join the others fighting them off. As he got close, he realized the Death Eaters were encased in a powerfully warded dome. 

 

"We can't get to 'em!" Harry recognized Seamus' voice shouting next to him. "There are only two wizards on the other side right now to hold them off!"

 

Harry's heart leapt into his throat. The Department of Mysteries held all sorts of dangerous knowledge, even if the goal was specific; any piece of information in there could mean disaster in the wrong hands. The flashing spell lights illuminated the imposing figure of Minister Shackelbolt himself rushing into the fray and flanked by curse breakers. Harry thought he saw a flash of Ron's red hair before he realized that he was looking at Bill Weasley's long mane. 

 

The cursebreakers and Kingsley formed a semi circle around the invaders and began to chant. The Death Eaters never lost focus, even as their wards began to flicker. Harry began to search for others that needed help in the darkness, but couldn't see a thing, so he continued to keep his drawn wand aimed at the corner in case of trouble. 

 

With a deafening and terrifying 'boom' the wards broke and the powerful magic of the assembled curse breakers soaked the Death Eaters with light. They were felled where they stood, and easily tied up by the by standing Aurors. Harry ran up to take a look at them. He didn't want to admit it to his professional self, but if he saw Scabior, he wouldn't hesitate to throw in an extra curse on Ron's behalf. 

 

The walls around the large space began to shake and tremble. A man to Harry's right shouted "There was too much power, the integrity has been compromised," and everyone began to cast shield charms over their heads. The uninjured witches and wizards lifted their wands to try to support the cracking ceiling, but large hunks of rock and wall became missiles falling down on the straining shields of everyone in the room. Kingsley screamed for everyone to evacuate, and Harry followed the flow of the crowd. He turned his head to make sure no one was left behind, constantly on the lookout for his two best friends. A new wave of terror came over Harry as he realized Ron and Hermione were both supposed to be at work.

 

********

_I hang my coat up in the first bar_  
_There is no peace that I've felt so far_  
_The laughter penetrates my silence_  
_As drunken men find flaws in science_

 

Illegal potions dealing cases are simple and slightly entertaining. On this particular assignment, Ron walked into the shop with a team full of Aurors (the biggest ones at his disposal) and charged into the rickety old apothecary. The thin, worn old man behind the counter buckled immediately, not even bothering to draw his wand. As the Auror squad broke into the hidden room in the basement of the shop, Ron stood back and admired his work. He loved a big, showy, quick raid first thing in the morning. The tone for his whole day felt like it was going to be great.

 

As he walked down Knockturn Alley and turned back on to Diagon Alley, an owl landed on his shoulder. 

 

"Well hello there Briggs!" Ron said cheerfully, greeting Clark's owl and taking the proffered note. "I don't have a treat on me, but I promise double next time." The owl just met his eyes for a moment and flew off.

 

_Ron,_

_I don’t have any students this afternoon, and I was feeling a bit stir crazy. I thought you might like to join me for an early lunch at the pub across from the Ministry. I'll be there at ten._

_Love,_

_Clark_

 

Ron blushed at the closing. He wasn’t ready to love anyone…else. Clark was very involved and attentive, and sometimes Ron felt awkward at all of the attention. An impromptu lunch sounded nice, but he was suspicious when the letter was signed with love. Clark wasn't the sort of man to do anything impromptu, and Ron was certain there was something more on his mind. 

 

Still, his stomach was growling, and he wanted to revel in his victory, so he made his way over to the pub. Clark was seated at a table in the far corner, and when he saw Ron, he lit up so brightly that Ron almost wanted to run the other way. He really wasn't ready for this. He stopped and ordered a drink before making his way to Clark.

 

"Hey, gorgeous! You look good enough to eat," Clark said, planting a kiss directly on Ron's lips. Ron didn't think it was possible, but his face turned even redder. He loved affection, he could readily admit that, but this much public affection was just too much too soon.

 

"Clark, hey, listen…"

 

"First, I have something to say," Clark said, lifting up his hand. Ron couldn't help the surge of anger at being interrupted, but the earnest look in Clark's eyes quelled that very swiftly.

 

"I'm in love with you. I've been in love since the first time I saw you. Of course I knew who you were, but to see you up close, well a bloke can't help himself sometimes. I don't want to spend any more days waking up alone. I'd like us to get a flat together outside of Hogwarts," Clark started, barely containing his excitement. He already had brochures for many wizarding buildings in the area. Before Ron could blink, he was looking down at floor plans for a two bedroom flat.

 

Clark continued to speak excitedly, but Ron's mouth just went dry. This was his first relationship with a man, and two months into it, they were almost literally picking out china patterns. As Clark's warm fingertips brushed his own, Ron considered the prospect of a forever with Clark. He was kind, loving, and Ron figured the sex would get better as time wore on. But Clark still felt…well…he just didn’t feel right. 

 

Clark was missing a fire, a seething spark that Ron didn't realize he needed so much. Sure, Ron knew that a calm and cool demeanor was a good compliment to his own personality, but what little he knew about love told him it wasn't all about who fit together perfectly. Love was about who you needed, who you couldn't live without. Ron imagined life without Clark, and while he would be bereft to let such a good companion go, he could easily be happy.

 

"Clark, I can't move in with you," Ron blurted out before he was completely ready. He immediately put his head into his hands. 

 

"Course you can, we have enough money. Things may be a bit tight, but we'll have a nice flat," He said absently, chewing on his toast. 

 

Ron had no idea why everyone always assumed they knew what was best for him…what he wanted. Everyone figured he and Hermione were supposed to be together. Everyone assumed he would go right for the Aurors and not help out George for a year like he did. Clark was assuming that Ron was going to move in with him without even asking him.

 

And Harry assumed Ron didn't want him, that he wouldn’t be happy loving his best mate.

 

"I don't love you!" Ron shouted, bursting with frustration. Luckily, the pub either didn't care or didn't notice, and the lunch rush kept right on with its buzzing noise. Clark stood frozen on the spot, a pained expression on his face. Ron reached out to touch him, but he flinched away.

 

"I just mean…it's moving too fast. I can't do this right now. It's too much," Ron said, trying to be as gentle as possible.

 

"You just don't want to move out of Harry's house, do you?" Clark said, poking his finger sharply against Ron's chest. When Ron flinched, Clark appeared to automatically assume his guilt. "You're holding a torch for the hero, aren't you?"

 

"That's not…" Ron croaked, but Clark didn't let up. 

 

"You probably wank to thoughts of him all the time while he's fucking everybody but you!" Clark shouted. Now, the pub was quiet. "He doesn't want you. After all these years, don't you think your little loverboy would have had you already?"

 

Ron's face burned, but this time with seething anger. Talking about Ron's shortcomings was one thing, but bringing Harry into this fight was quite another. He clenched his fists and tried to breathe through his nose. "You don't know what you’re talking about, Clark. Why don't you and I go somewhere else and talk?"

 

"Oh you'd like to avoid the embarrassment of your foolish little crush. You don't think I see the way you look at him? I just figured you weren't nearly so delusional. But then again, you are a gormless little sod aren't you?" Clark straightened his jacket and began to walk out of the pub. Ron was slightly relieved it was over, even if the pains in his chest were beginning to be overwhelming. 

 

Clark paused halfway across the room and Ron braced himself for the final blow. "He'd rather fuck anyone but you. You know the hero probably gets all the lovers he wants. He fucked your sister, and he's probably fucked all of your brothers. He just won't fuck you, and now you're going to waste away waiting for a few crumbs from our great-"

 

Clark wasn't able to finish his diatribe. Ron rushed forward, headfirst into Clark's chest and toppled him over, taking one of the old, wooden pub tables with him. When Ron had Clark pinned on the ground, the blond wizard managed to reach up and hit him hard across the jaw. Clark hit Ron again with equal force, causing the side of Ron's face to go numb. He was faintly aware of a trickle of blood going down his chin as he raised his fists for another blow. He wanted to destroy something, anything, in that moment. The frustration of months of uncertainty and heartbreak was bursting forth and Ron felt like he was going to be consumed by his own anger and pain. His hand never made it to its destination, however, as a shield was put up between them and Ron was torn off of his former lover.

 

Ron was dragged off of the offending body and immediately pulled into the crushing weight of apparation. He did not fight it for fear of being splinched.

 

When he landed firmly on the ground, Ron spun, ready to fight off his attacker, only to be met with Dean Thomas' wide, dark eyes. Ron dropped his wand and sighed out heavily. He took a moment to look around the large, open room. It was filled with paintings, some covered in sheets and some sitting out in the frigid open air. There was paint splattered on the wall and the floors, and various supplies and potions scattering the old wooden tables. 

 

"This is my art studio," Dean said unnecessarily.

 

"Nice," Ron said, temporarily distracted from what just happened.

 

"I come here and paint before or after work. Sometimes I manage to slip away during work," Dean said, winking. "So…"

 

"Listen, what you heard…it's completely barmy." Ron blushed and shoved his sore knuckles into his pocket. 

 

"No it's not, Ron." Dean said softly. Ron tried to avoid Dean's stare. "I know we're not best mates or anything, but I'm not blind. The professor had a point."

 

"He doesn’t want me…that's the point," Ron said, clenching his aching fists in his pockets.

 

"Yes he does," Dean whispered. Ron closed his eyes until he felt a cold breeze and heard a whoosh of fabric. He looked up to see a magnificent Muggle style painting presented right in front of him. 

 

Ron couldn't help but gasp and bite his lip. He was looking at a life size depiction of Harry, lying on stark white sheets, his body naked, except for a sheet strategically placed, and glistening with sweat. He was looking toward a source of light Ron assumed was a window, and the light was glinting off of his unkempt hair and giving him the appearance of a glow. Ron almost reached out and touched the tan shapely arms presented before him.

 

"I did that not too long ago," Dean said, his voice still quiet to match the mood of the room.

 

"This only proves how badly I want him," Ron said, too hurt to bother hiding his emotions in that moment. 

 

"I was asking him who he wanted, who he loved, and who he carried with him," Dean explained, putting a hand on Ron's shoulder.

 

"What the fuck are you trying to do to me, Thomas!" Ron shouted. 

 

"That's the same look Harry always got on his face when watching you tell a story in the common room, or make a save at a quidditch match, or even the way he looks at you while we're all getting drinks at the pub. That look on his face is just for you, Ron." Dean explained, walking to stand in front of Ron and meet his eyes. 

 

Ron closed his eyes and imagined looking back at Harry when that expression ghosted over the other wizard's face. His heart began to swell. With that feeling came determination. He would not allow Harry to run away from what could be any longer. If Harry wanted him at all, if what Dean was saying was true, than Ron was going to find out. 

 

"Before you go pounding on the walls of churches, why don't I clean up your face a little?" Dean said, breaking Ron out of his trance. Ron followed Dean over to the utility sink in the corner. "Kinda strange though, isn't it? Neville seems to be the only one in our dorm that turned out straight!"

 

Just as Ron was about the laugh at the absurdity, a massive 'boom' was heard outside of Dean's window, followed by panicked screams. Ron and Dean grabbed their wands and headed down the stairs to the crowded, chaotic street.

 

Ron's heart fell into his stomach as he saw people running away from the Ministry in a cloud of dust and debris. He could hear Dean's heavy footfalls right beside them if they fought the wave of witches and wizards running through Muggle London and tried to get to the main entrance of the Ministry in time. When they saw the Ministry collapsing around some fading shield charms, Dean yelled out Seamus' name and practically dove into the mess of debris and chaos. Ron followed him, heading toward the collapsing roof and already trying to figure out how he would get to the other floors to find Harry, Hermione, his father, and Percy before the entire underground structure collapsed.

 

He spun around in a circle, his panic rising at the piles of debris blocking the lifts. If the ceiling in the atrium had collapsed, there was no telling what was happening in the other departments. He began thrusting his wand in the direction of one of the many atrium fire places, trying to see if he could get to a floo to go directly to Harry and Hermione's offices. Nothing would free up though, as the structure of most of the large hearths had collapsed as well. 

 

"Is there any fucking way to get to the other departments?!" Ron suddenly shouted, gripping his hair tightly.

 

"Son!" Ron heard his father's voice rise from somewhere near his left and he began searching the crowd. Arthur Weasley was struggling to get to Ron. When they finally met, Arthur wrapped his arms around Ron tightly, sighing in relief. "I thought…oh God, Ron!"

 

"Harry, Hermione…bloody hell, Percy! I can't get to any of them! I can’t find anyone!" Ron cried.

 

"Okay, we'll have to keep searching and keep trying. I can’t think of anything else to do. I'll go this way, you go back that way," Arthur said, hugging his son one more time before separating, wand drawn and ready to blast walls if he had to.

 

He walked down a corridor that where injured people were still hobbling out of it and began to comb the area for any sight of bushy brown hair, messy black hair, or curly red. He saw the faintest little wisp of a brown curl flutter from the side of a large rock slab pressed against the wall. He immediately drew his wand to blast the stone away. After the first rock shattered, he realized he could hurt Hermione, or whoever was trapped behind that rock, and began to levitate the stones away slowly.

 

As the last Rock was removed, Ron saw Hermione, her face screwed up in pain. She was holding her leg, tears streaming down her face. When Ron called her name, she looked up, a small flicker of relief on her face in between the sobs of pain. Ron knelt down in front of her to examine her wounds.

 

"Can you move?" He asked, swallowing down a lump at the site of the bruises and gashes on her face and arms. She nodded, turning her head side to side, twisting her back, and lifting her arms. When she attempted to lift her leg, she shrieked in pain. Ron noticed the blood blossoming on her trousers when she moved and he cradled her ankle gently on his lap to have a closer look. 

 

He removed her brown pumps carefully and lowered her sock. He cringed as she flinched and whimpered. He rolled up her pant leg and began to see a horrible swelling and bruising starting just at the hem. As he moved her pants up, the deep wound that cut into her leg made his stomach churn. The rock which had pinned her had landed on her in such a way that it didn't break her bone, but still cut extensively into her flesh. She had already lost a lot of blood. Ron raised his wand, using it to cut a strip of his sleeve, and tied the piece of cloth tightly just below her knee. 

 

He stood up and cleared a path back to the main atrium. Ron leaned over and scooped Hermione easily into his long arms, pulling her against his chest to keep her from being jostled by the rushing, panicked crowd. The situation had calmed, but there was still so much fear and urgency that magic practically pulsated on the walls. Ron kept his eyes open, shooting around desperately for Harry, but when he looked down and saw that Hermione had fainted, he decided that he had to get her to St. Mungo's. 

 

As he exited the Ministry, he caught sight of a flicker of light reflecting off of a glass surface and cutting through the dusty air. Ron looked over and saw Harry, running into the Ministry, with his wand drawn and a look of panic mixed with determination on his face. Ron called out to him, but realized there was no way Harry would have been able to hear him over the commotion.

 

Suddenly, Harry's sharp, wide green eyes met Ron's and they stayed locked on each other as Harry ran toward him. 

 

_Their words mostly noises_  
_Ghosts with just voices_  
_Your words in my memory_  
_Are like music to me_

 

((((()))))))(((((()))))))

 

"Will she be okay then?" Harry asked, switching his weight from foot to foot. Besides the incident with Mr. Weasley, Harry had never spent much time in a hospital and they made him even more nervous than he already was. 

 

"She's lost a lot of blood, and it's a very serious wound, but we've managed to replace her blood with some potions and after some treatments with dittany and physical therapy, the leg should be good as new within the next few months!

 

After the pain medication had finally put Hermione to sleep, the healer administered the bone sealing and blood replenishing potions and slipped silently out the door. Ron let go of Hermione's hand and made it over to the adjoining loo, mumbling something about washing his face. He moved as though his body ached from the strain and panic of a tumultuous day. He sighed and began to splash water on his face before spelling away the remaining dirt and moisture.

 

 

"Wow," Harry said from behind him, causing Ron to jump. "You got put through the ringer too." Harry paused next to him, meeting his eyes in the mirror and feeling the color drain from his face at the memory of the past few hours. "Where were you? I couldn't find you."

 

"I wasn't in the building. I was at a pub getting lunch and then I was at Dean's." Ron answered, avoiding Harry's gaze.

 

"Who goes to a pub in the middle of the day?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual, but silently hoping Ron hadn't seen that painting of him.

 

"I was meeting Clark for lunch," Ron said into his towel, turning his back. He suddenly hissed in pain and Harry walked around him to see what was wrong. The cut above Ron's eye had opened and was dripping blood down his face. Harry quickly grabbed the towel and wet it with warm water before reaching up and running it gently over Ron's cut. He winced along with Ron as the cloth ghosted over the bruise. 

 

"I can heal these for you," Harry whispered, trying to ignore the feeling of Ron's warm body so close to his. He wanted so badly to grip Ron firmly by the shoulders and pull him in for a crushing kiss.

 

"That would be great," Ron said, his voice gravelly and strained. 

 

Harry raised his wand and healed Ron's cut and black eye. A small trickle of blood was still left below Ron’s eye, and Harry reached out a shaky hand to wipe it away. His hand lingered on the side of Ron's jaw; his fingertips just brushing Ron's hair, and Ron turned in and pressed his cheek more firmly against Harry's palm. Harry closed his eyes and tried to memorize the feeling of Ron's stubble beneath his touch.

 

"Who roughed you up then? Football hooligans?" Harry said, attempting levity and failing miserably at the confused look on Ron's face. "Want me to kick their arse?" Harry smiled, but couldn't deny the bitter disclaimer, "Unless of course that's Clark’s job."

 

Ron got a bitter, resigned look on his face, but Harry had no time to press the issue further as he heard two men shouting Ron's name down the corridors of St. Mungo's.

 

 

Harry followed Ron out the door to see Mr. Weasley and Percy frantically searching in each room and calling out Ron's name. "Dad!" Ron said, and Mr. Weasley and Percy both perked their heads up and ran toward him. Before Ron could even form a question on his lips, he was enfolded into a huge, four armed embrace.

 

"Everything alright?" Harry asked after he was pulled into the hug as well, sandwiched between the two elder Weasleys in the bunch.

 

"We just couldn't find you two! I had seen Ron on his way to look for you, but then we lost track. When someone said they saw you lot heading toward St. Mungo's, I thought the worst," Mr. Weasley explained, looking like a weight had just been lifted off of his shoulders. Percy still looked pale and fearful. 

 

"Ron, Harry…I'm so sorry!" Percy exclaimed, his face twisted."I looked everywhere for Hermione, but I couldn't find her. The whole thing finally collapsed, and no one could get in or out. I couldn't go back in for her!" he cried, looking tragic and lost.

 

"Percy, son," Mr. Weasley whispered. He put a calming hand on Percy's shoulder and pointed up to where Hermione's name and patient information was written in floating golden letters just above the room number on the door. Percy let out a cry of relief and reached up to touch her name, though the letters just separated like smoke rings. Harry thought his eyebrows couldn't go any higher toward his hairline. He heard Ron gasp and reach for Percy's arm.

 

"Perce…what is wrong with your hands?" Ron's concerned voice drew Harry's attention down to the lacerated, bloody hands peeking out from under the tattered Ministry robes. 

 

"There were so many rocks. They just tumbled down. I had to get her out. I couldn't lose her too…not that way…not again," Percy said, his voice shaking. Mr. Weasley looked taken back for a moment before he finally took a deep breath and walked over to Percy. He placed a gentle hand on Percy's shoulders and let him into Hermione's room. 

 

"Let's get your hands fixed up," he whispered to his middle son, his voice croaking. 

 

Harry chanced a look in Ron's direction, knowing he's find the same pained expression he wore for weeks after the final battle. Fred's loss was still a newly-healed wound, and what Percy said likely opened it just a little. Ron's jaw was clenched, his eyes were closed, and he had his arms wrapped around his middle. Harry leaned against him and put a hand lightly on his back. 

 

 

“Thanks, mate,” Ron sighed, leaning against Harry’s body. “It’s been a rough day.”

 

“Ron, why did you and Clark fight? Is everything okay?” Harry asked, keeping a firm hand on Ron’s back. 

 

“No it bloody well isn’t!” Ron shouted. “And it’s all your fault! I can’t think straight with you standing there…you’re so close. You’re always so close!”

 

With those cryptic, infuriating, and hurtful words, Ron stormed out of St. Mungo’s leaving Harry bewildered and alone outside of Hermione’s room.

 

Harry was distracted from Ron’s outburst by screams coming from Hermione’s room. Harry rushed in to find her throwing everything near her bed she could get her hands on at Lawrence. He was huddled against the wall with flowers in his hands, attempting to get her to stop long enough for him to explain. 

 

"Get out of my room you bloody coward!" Hermione screamed, grabbing a vase full of daisies from her bedside table and flinging it at Lawrence's head. He managed to duck just in time.

 

"Hermione, please," He said, ducking again as a glass of water was thrust at him.

 

Hermione had tears streaming down her face and her hands were shaking. Harry was caught off guard completely by her extreme reaction, but in the next breath, he was worried that Lawrence had done something horrible to her. He clenched his fists as he glanced around the room. Mr. Weasley was standing at a safe distance looking quizzically at Hermione, but Percy had his chest puffed out and a look of pure rage on his face. 

 

"She has asked you to leave. If you do not, I will have to force you," Percy said, with a quiet ferocity that shocked Harry. 

 

He was ready to throw his hat into the ring and make Lawrence leave, when the other wizard turned on his heels to exit. Harry moved to the side to let him pass, a dark suspicious look on his face, when Lawrence turned back and rounded on Hermione. He walked up to her, as closely as he could before Percy made a step forward. 

 

"You may think me a coward, but you are the delusional little bint who expects too much of the men in your life!" He shouted, and just as the last word left his mouth and Harry began to lunge for Lawrence, Percy's fist connected to the offending wizard's jaw with a sickening crack. Lawrence rushed out of the room without another word.

 

There was a heavy silence that descended on the small hospital room for what felt like an eternity before finally Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and Harry found his words.

 

"Hermione, what-"

 

"I just want to go home, Harry." Hermione sighed resignedly.

 

"You can't go home in your condition!" Harry said, suddenly worried that Hermione would shut herself off like she did after her parents came back from Australia. "Why don't you stay with Ron and I for a few days?"

 

Hermione seemed to ponder for a moment. "You know, I could use some friendly company right now."

 

"It's settled. I'll go talk to the healer," Harry said leaving the room. He wondered where Ron was, but the thought of Ron only brought a tight knot to his stomach. 

 

Within an hour, Hermione was being led up the front steps of Grimmauld Place carefully. As Harry and Percy guided Hermione into the sitting room, a pile of blankets on the chair began to shift. Ron’s distinctive orange head popped up from under the knitted afghan, with red eyes and a slack expression. When he saw Hermione he leapt up, faltered a little on his feet, and lumbered toward her to help get her to the sofa. Harry bent over to cover Hermione up, and he could smell the firewhisky on Ron’s breath.

 

Ron shot Harry a confused look and took a seat on the other side of Hermione, taking her hand and asking if everything was okay. They talked for a while about what happened at The Ministry, and while Ron did ask after Lawrence, Hermione would just shake her lead and clench her jaw. Harry could see Ron getting agitated and worried, his fists clenching. He knew Ron was planning Lawrence’s death even before he knew what happened. When Hermione started silently weeping and pushed Ron and Harry out of the room, Harry dragged Ron into the kitchen in the hopes of finding him a sobering potion. 

 

“I’m not bleedin’ drunk!” Ron exclaimed, throwing up his hands and walking away from Harry. Harry grabbed a towel and followed Ron.

 

“Actually you are drunk and bleeding,” Harry said softly. “I can smell it on you.”

 

“You can smell blood? Blimey!” Ron said sarcastically.

 

“Ron, what’s going on? What happened?”

 

“What d’you mean? The Ministry collapsed if you hadn’t noticed!” Ron said, looking away. The tips of his ears began to turn red.

 

“Well I’d love to meet the debris that can make such a perfect round bruise directly over your eye,” Harry said, and Ron just looked back at him blankly. “And I know you love to drink, but never in the middle of the day.”

 

“I’m just worried about Hermione,” Ron answered, trying to leave the kitchen. Harry blocked the doorway.

 

“At least let me heal that lip,” Harry whispered. Ron nodded and didn’t move. Harry summoned a flannel and soaked it in some hot water from the faucet. He reached up and gently wiped the blood from Ron’s mouth. He tried not to shudder when Ron licked his lips afterwards. Harry cast a mild healing spell.

 

“Thanks, mate.”

 

“What really happened?” Ron shook his head. “We used to be able to say anything to each other.”

 

“Yeah. We haven’t had a good long talk since…oh I don’t know…New Year’s Eve?” Ron said bitingly. Harry curled his fists and closed his eyes, willing himself to keep his cool and feeling himself losing. 

 

“Ron…I…”

 

“Do you want to know what happened? Clark did this! Clark! He wanted to move to the next step, I wasn’t ready, he got literally and emotionally pissed, and we had a row.” Ron said, stomping toward the cupboard and pulling the bottle of Ogden’s back down.

 

“He hit you?” Harry said, not even bothering to contain his anger and thinking of all the ways he could gut Clark.

 

“Yeah, he hit first, but I hit last,” Ron said darkly. 

 

With that, Ron crashed through the kitchen door and into the sitting room. Harry was ready to rush after him before he heard Ron shout “What the fuck?” at the top of his lungs.

 

()()()()()()(*)*()

 

Ron couldn’t even comprehend what he was looking at. There was Percy, sitting on the sofa, with his hands on Hermione’s face and not a centimeter of space between them. Hermione lifted her hands up and wrapped them around Percy’s wrist. She smiled at him for a moment before turning slowly and looking at Ron. Ron’s mind was buzzing and his vision was slightly blurred with anger, confusion, and he’d hate to admit it, but tears from his encounter with Harry.

 

As if on cue, Harry’s strong hand circled around his upper arm and he pulled Ron back slightly. Ron closed his eyes for a moment and focused on Harry before opening them again and looking back at his brother and Hermione. She was looking at him, speaking carefully and gently, and he was red faced and panic stricken. Ron immediately felt like an asshole.

 

“It’s alright,” Ron started, trying to regain the foothold on his emotions. “I’m sorry I yelled.” Ron shuddered slightly when he felt Harry’s hand leave his arm and caress lightly up his back before resting on his shoulder.

 

“Of course it’s alright, Ron. Why wouldn’t it be? And I don’t need your permission to do anything with anyone,” Hermione said, though her lip was quivering. 

 

“It’s okay Ms. Gr-I mean, Hermione,” Percy said. He was looking at her with a mixture of worry and adoration. To say Ron was shocked would have been an understatement. 

 

“What happened to Lawrence?” Ron asked, remembering the way he was screamed out of the hospital room.

 

“I’m going to kill him,” Percy muttered. Ron let out a cough at hearing his normally controlled brother be so open with his rage. Hermione just pursed her lips at him and turned to Ron.

 

“He had come to the Ministry to take me to lunch when the chaos started to happen. We were walking along the corridor toward the cafeteria when the building started to shake,” Hermione started to tremble and Percy moved a little closer to her side. “When the first rock fell, he ran ahead. He left me there to fend for myself. Now I’m not saying I can’t take care of myself…but he just…he was gone.”

 

Hermione was openly crying, and Ron and Harry moved to the sofa to crowd around her and offer her comfort and the opinion that they never liked Lawrence anyway. After some more firewhisky was dispersed, Hermione fell asleep, Percy tucked her in and took up a chair next to her, and Ron and Harry were left in the kitchen gently sipping away at their drinks.

 

“Ron, I’m so sorry that Clark…” Harry started. Ron was about ready to lift his hand and tell him it was okay when Harry slammed his glass down on the table. “Fuck that. I’m sorry he hit you but I’m not sorry you two broke up.”

 

“Harry?” Ron said, his stomach beginning to churn nervously. While Harry did swear, it wasn’t very often, and the intensity in his eyes stirred something deep inside of Ron and made his cheeks flame. He hoped Harry hadn’t caught on to why he and Clark had broken up. Ron was still struggling to think of an explanation to his outburst in the hospital that could save him the humiliation of Harry coming to the conclusion himself. 

 

“Ron, I’ve been so fucking-“Harry was interrupted by a large dark brown barn owl that began slamming against the kitchen window.

 

“No!” Harry shouted in frustration.

 

Ron got up and let the owl in. He took the letter from the talons, gave him a treat, and sat down right next to Harry. He placed the Official Ministry Document in front of Harry and then put his hand over the dark-haired wizard’s, squeezing tightly.

 

“I’ll be here when you get back. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on those two barmy little rabbits in the sitting room,” Ron smiled gently, swallowing his disappointment for the sake of Harry’s mission.

 

Harry opened the letter, frowned gravely, and then rose up to get his Auror gear on. Ron just sat back and watched him, not daring to hope that anything would happen when Harry got back, but letting his imagination flicker slightly at the sight of Harry in his work robes. Harry made his way quickly to the back door, indicating that he didn’t want to wake Hermione. Ron just nodded and gave him a slight wave.

 

Suddenly, the door slammed and Harry was rushing back across the kitchen. Ron didn’t even freeze, he moved toward Harry and their bodies collided with the force of two steel structures falling into each other. Ron crashed his lips to Harry’s without even bothering to catch his breath. The kiss was quick, hard, and full of so many unspoken things that Ron wouldn’t have been able to breathe if he tried. And just like that Harry was gone and Ron was left alone, focusing on the expansion and contraction of his lungs.

 

(((((((((((((((()_)_)_)_)_)_

_I'm miles from where you are_  
_I lay down on the cold ground_  
_I pray that something picks me up_  
_And sets me down in your warm arms_

  

It was bloody freezing in Siberia, even with all the warming charms and layers of fur that Harry could heap on him. He tried not to focus on the warm fire that was likely crackling back at Grimmauld Place, nor of the even more consuming warmth that Ron’s body always let off even on the coldest days. Harry huddled behind a tree, got Seamus and Giles in his sights and settled in against the tree line by yet another ruddy, run down pub. They had been scouring the countryside for three weeks with no way to contact home and nothing more comfortable than run down shacks to sleep in. They had finally gotten a tip from observing a little pub 50 kilometers west.

 

After the fiasco of the last undercover mission, and the one before that, the Aurors had decided to gather their intelligence through only spying and no covert work, and this meant there were various Aurors and Unspeakables gathered behind the trees waiting for information to waft into their various sensory devices. Harry’s extendable ears were covered and now and hidden right in the doorway while Seamus and Giles had weird metal cones cupped over their right ears. Harry listened for even a whisper of Scabior, a Stripping Spell, or uprising.

 

After what felt like hours, Harry smelled something strange in the air. At first, he thought it was the ammonia laden smell of one of the many drunken patrons relieving himself in the snow, but when he chanced a look around, he saw no one. The smell became stronger, and Harry more alert. He lifted his wand to cast a shield charm so that he could get out his communicator without having to be too alert, but when he flicked his wand, nothing came out except one impotent little spark. Harry willed his heart not to race as he calmly leaned around his tree to see if he could get Seamus’ attention.

 

He looked at Seamus just in time to hear someone behind them shout “Get down!” before curses were flying in all directions. Harry got up to defend his comrades before he realized his magic was gone. He crouched down and rushed over to where Seamus was sitting, dodging the crossfires that didn’t seem to be aimed at him. 

 

The flying curses over Harry’s head were blurry, as though he was looking at them through thick glass. He tried casting a spell again, but his wand still did nothing. He grabbed a stick, jabbing at the air to find out if by some wild chance, he was encased in glass. The stick hit against something just under another flying curse, and then an electrical force seared through him with so much power that he was thrown back. 

 

“Harry?” Giles said, his dark eyes squinting with a combination of cold wind and flashing lights.

 

“I’m fine,” Harry murmured. “What was that?”

 

Giles didn’t answer, but clenched his jaw and his fists. He looked up at the invisible force field and shook his head in disgust. Harry stood up to brush the snow off of the hides he was wearing, jumping when Seamus suddenly let out a string of expletives next to them. 

 

“Seamus, don’t,” Giles said through clenched teeth, looking at Harry.

 

“If you two know what’s going on, you better fucking tell me now before I go shoving more sticks in places I shouldn’t!” Harry shouted in frustration. Even through the haze of his anger, Seamus guffawed.

 

“It’s no harm to tell him, mate,” Seamus said, looking at his partner. “He already knows more than most Aurors, and you know he’s going be right in the thick of a huge debriefing.”

 

“I swear to god I am never working with Unspeakables again!” Harry shouted, jumping as a bright curse flashed over top of him. He realized he would never be hit, as the invisible dome seemed to keep magic out as well as prevent it. 

 

“They weren’t working on stripping people of their magic like we initially thought,” Seamus whispered darkly, as the ground began to quake. 

 

The fight was drawing closer. In addition to the bright lights of spells and curses, Harry could see faint shadows. Scabior's group was coming from the direction of the pubs they had been staking out, and a horde of men, about 50 strong, were coming across the flat, ice plain directly toward them, still madly firing off defensive and offensive spells. Without getting a close enough look, Harry knew the Aurors had come. 

 

“They’ve found a way to strip the magic out of a place,” Harry whispered, overwhelmed. “If they can do that, there’s no telling what they can do to the entire country!”

 

“You know what we have to do,” Giles said gravely, taking Seamus’ hand. Harry took Seamus’ other hand as some of the other Unspeakables came out of their hiding spots.

 

“I don’t understand how we can do this though, without magic,” Harry said, worried that he was pointing out the obvious.

 

“The stripping spell actually works by stripping the magic out of the carrier through the wands. Based on the reaction that our wands are having to this FUCKING dome, we might be able to use wandless magic to try to counteract the spell,” Giles said, his thin body already shaking with anticipation. “They aren’t going to do this. They can’t.”

 

“Guys, you know what happens when you liquefy this spell,” Seamus said, addressing his colleagues. They all nodded solemnly as Harry remembered the drain it took on all of Seamus’ faculties to even stop one person from casting on one other person.

 

The small number of Unspeakables and Harry formed a circle with their backs to each other and their faces looking out across the vast, icy wilderness. The battle was coming closer to them, and as Harry tried to focus, he watched his friends and coworkers fight against the horde. Harry was prepared for 20 men, but there were upwards of 75 crowded on the Siberian plain. Despite his normally unyielding faith, he didn’t think they were going to be able to end this spell. Harry shuddered to think what would happen if they lost the fight as well. 

 

As he begin to focus his body, his mind, and what little magic he could still feel into the spell, he looked back out over the field. Running at the center of a pack of Aurors, slashing his wand as though it were a vicious sword, was Ron. Harry focused everything on his figure cutting through the melee like an animal and seething with power. He could feel his own power bubble up in response. Just as Harry was about to move his magic toward the offending spell, Ron looked over at him. Even through the distance, even through the darkness, he could see the white and blue of Ron’s eyes. They locked for a singular moment, and Harry let out a primal yell. 

 

)))))))))_______))))))))))))))))

 

Ron paced Grimmauld Place, over and over. He was completely floored by his kiss with Harry, but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to run off to wherever Harry was stationed and shag him senseless. His body was on fire, and he gripped his hair roughly to try and quell the multitude of emotions that kept welling up inside of him. On his fifth trip through the house, Percy cornered him in the hall. 

 

“Listen, I can see that my burgeoning relationship with Miss Granger is bothering you,” Percy started, lifted his hand up when Ron started to protest. “I can assure you I have only the purest of intentions with her. And to be frank, I absolutely adore her.”

 

Percy looked at Ron, their similar heights allowing Ron to meet his brown eyes. Ron could see so much anxiety in Percy that he was taken back. His fastidious older brother seemed unflappable, even in the face of Fred and George’s pranks, but the last 24 hours had shown Ron a whole new side of Percy. He couldn’t help but reach out and clasp his brother on the shoulder.

 

“You hurt her, and I’ll kill you. After I’m done, Harry will kill you,” Percy nodded, a small smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. “And then I’ll tell mum.” Percy frowned.

 

“I can’t imagine a situation in which I would hurt her,” Percy said, his thin mouth forming a beatific smile. “So what’s bothering you then, little brother?”

 

Ron debated saying anything about the encounter in the kitchen to Percy. He knew Percy saw that kiss on New Year’s Eve, but Ron was still uncomfortable with the thought of everyone knowing how deeply his feelings ran. He clenched his fists and hoped his face didn’t turn red. He was purposely avoiding Percy’s eyes, but Percy just stood there patiently until Ron looked at him.

 

“Did you and Harry have a row?” Percy asked gently. Percy was never very intuitive about human emotion. 

 

“Sort of the opposite actually, Perce,” Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets sheepishly. “And then before I could even really wrap my head around it, he had to take off on another godforsaken mission!”

 

“There doesn’t seem to be much to wrap your head around, Ron. You two obviously love each other.”

 

Ron began to panic.

 

“Who said anything about love?” He said, his voice cracking like he was 14 again. Percy just lifted his eyebrows.

 

“Is there a place where Hermione can sleep?” Percy said, unaffected by the bright shade Ron was turning. 

 

“I don’t know when Harry will be back. It wouldn’t hurt to put her in his bed. We don’t have any of the other rooms open. Need help?” Ron asked, following Percy into the living room. 

 

“Locomotor will work just fine,” Percy said, looking down at Hermione with worry. Before Ron could reassure Percy that Hermione would be okay, Kingsley’s lynx patronus descended through the ceiling.

 

“The Siberian mission is being ambushed. All Aurors report immediately for Portkey Transport.”

 

The shining cat disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving Ron staring confusedly at the spot it left. “Siberian mission? There is no mission to-“

 

Suddenly, Ron’s stomach fell into his chest and his heart began to race.  “Harry,” he whispered. He summoned his cloak, stepped into his boots by the back door, and apparated straight from the garden to the apparation point outside of The Ministry. 

 

Ron burst through The Ministry doors. It was almost deserted at this time of night, especially with all of the repairs that were still ongoing. Most people left their work overnight, fearful of being in the unstable building along.  The old Warlocks of the Wizengamot and their clerks were usually the only ones to be found past nine. Ron ran, his thick black boots clicking down the marble floors. When he made it to the third floor, he saw Kingsley pacing the hallway, talking to a patronus. 

 

“Kingsley! Kingsley!” Ron shouted, breathless and in a full sprint. Kingsley’s head spun in his direction and he dismissed the patronus. When Ron caught up to him, he was already brimming with fear and rage.

 

“Where did you fucking send Harry?” Ron said, grabbing The Minister’s robes. “Where did you send him without Auror backup? Without ME!”

 

Kingsley pulled Ron’s fists from his robes carefully, and gave Ron an even stare until Ron’s heavy breathing slowed. Ron’s fists were still clenching and unclenching. He knew his anger was slightly misdirected, but at this point, he couldn’t see past the fact that Harry was on a mission somewhere where Ron could not protect him, where they couldn’t look out for each other. The helplessness was killing him. 

 

“Harry was on a mission with the Unspeakables in Siberia. I do not have time to explain the spell he was researching, but they were following a band of new rebels who were employing these new magical tactics to what could have been terrorizing means,” Kingsley explained as calmly as he could, though Ron could see his lips were tight as well. “It seems as though they were onto us the whole time. “

 

“Why the fuck didn’t we have more men on it?” Ron said, trying not to shout. “Why weren’t you there for them?”

 

“We didn’t realize it would happen so quickly. As soon as I got the distress signal, I summoned all the aurors here. Not surprisingly you were the first to arrive.” Kingsley answered, turning toward the entrance to the department to see two more Aurors filter through. 

 

“Where’s the Portkey?” Ron asked impatiently, thinking the other Aurors weren’t moving nearly fast enough for the grave situation.

 

“Ron, you’re not going until we have more backup.”

 

As if on cue, five witches and wizards filtered in, heartening Ron slightly by looking ready for a fight. Kingsley looked around and nodded. “Let me brief you all and then we’ll send the first group out.”

 

“Alright people, listen up!” Kingsley addressed the gathering crowd and commanding a respect that eased Ron’s panicked mind slightly. “Earlier today, we dispatched a group of Unspeakables and Mr. Potter to Siberia to do some reconnaissance work on a group of new criminals. These dangerous men sought to strip Muggleborns of their magic through a technique that was perfected within these very walls. They nearly succeeded a few weeks ago.”

 

Ron’s knees began to feel weak. He thought of Hermione, her brilliant eyes shining with accomplishment and magical skill. He remembered how she looked after Bellatrix was done with her. He couldn’t even fathom her without magic. Harry was trying to protect her, to protect so many people. It had always been Harry to save the world, but Ron to save him. He gripped his wand tightly, itching to get to him. 

 

“Something has cut off every single magical signature at their locations. We’re barely getting flickers at the moment. This is most distressing. All we know is that they were scouting pubs and outbuildings, and then we got the signals. We need to get there and get our colleagues out. That is the first priority. Before engaging the rebels in a full offense, please ensure that all are accounted for and safe. Focus on defensive tactics only.” Kingsley finished, looking gravely at the equally grave faces staring at him. Kingsley nodded at Ron.

 

“Right, I’ll take the first group. We need a list of who we’re looking for,” Ron said, turning to Kingsley. Kingsley pulled one out of his pocket. “When we get there, let’s go as stealthily as possible until we can see our friends and a way to pull them out. We have no idea what we’re facing with this spell, or how far it can reach. If you feel at all like you’re being affected, get out, or send out distress signals.”

 

With that, they were heading toward the first Portkey to Russia, leaving behind safe and warm and readying themselves for the cold and fear that awaited them. One thought ate at Ron’s mind like a gnawing, biting fire: Why can’t they see Harry’s magical signature? Ron didn’t want to imagine Harry dead. There had been an excruciating period of time when Ron thought he was, and he knew he couldn’t go through that again. And he certainly wasn’t going to stand idly by while it happened.

 

He hit the ground running. He could already see the glowing of some form of magic nearly 500 meters away, and he led his team through the tundra toward the tree line. As they neared sight, they cast their disillusionment charms and began to crouch behind a tree. One Auror followed the rest of them, vanishing their tracks like they had never been there. Ron held his breath and peered around a vast, pine trunk toward the center of a dome of glowing, menacing magic.

 

Harry was on his knees, hands joined with others in a circle that was sending light beaming toward the outer ring of the dome. Ron could see even from his distance that they were all shaking with effort. As they approached, the Aurors were spotted, and Ron actively engaged in every defensive spell he could think of, Harry foremost in his mind. The battle seemed to go on for an agonizingly infinite amount of minutes.

 

Suddenly, when it seemed the light was poised to take over the hanging magic, a powerful spell was cast that shrouded the dome in darkness, and when it dissipated, all of the Unspeakables and Harry were lying face down in the snow. For a moment the cursing ceased on both sides as they stared in horror or triumph, and Ron took his chance to run even harder.

 

Ron’s eyes only saw red with rage, which helped to keep his fear and despair swallowed down. He charged at the offenders just as thick sheets of snow fell from the sky and obscured their vision. Ron reached into his pocket for his goggles, as did the other Aurors, and thinking of Harry’s glasses balancing unevenly on his nose, Ron cast an impervious charm. The other Aurors followed his lead as the remaining portkeys could be heard popping in behind their small group.

 

It turned out to be that harmless little charm that was the villain’s downfall. They couldn’t see in the snow. Their aims were so severely off that the Aurors were able to go against Kingsley’s orders, and offensively cast. That none of them had thought of the eventuality of a snowstorm in Siberia would have been shocking to Ron if he had time to stop and think about it. The Aurors had most of them tied up and ready to ship to Azkaban within minutes. Only a few of the minor players escaped. Even Scabior was caught. Ron wanted to kick him hard in the side, but his eyes were focused on the place where Harry had lain. There were mounds in the snow that were becoming less and less visible with each second that passed. 

 

Ron reached the small circle of bodies first, falling to his knees and digging in the snow. Every time he uncovered someone, his heart would constrict in fear that he would find Harry’s lifeless form, but for the most part he found unfamiliar and alive strangers. He would set a signal of sparks above them and move on. He felt like he was getting nowhere.

 

“Harry!” Ron shouted desperately, his own hands growing numb even through his thick gloves. “Harry please!”

 

He was letting out frozen sobs in between heaving efforts to move snow, vanish snow, and get to the next person. Harry’s name was repeated like a mantra over and over again, barely pausing on his lips before the words were released with each anguished and icy breath. It felt to Ron like every time he moved, Harry’s death became more real.

 

Ron saw the mess of his hair spiking up through the snow and fell to his side. He rolled Harry over. His lips were blue, and there was ice caking his glasses. He seemed so still, and so cold, that Ron thought he’d break like the thin sheet of ice that would form across his family’s pond in December. Regardless, he picked Harry up and pulled him close to his chest, ignoring the fact that Harry weighed nearly as much as he did. Ron was shaking so hard that he couldn’t even send up sparks. 

 

“Weasley,” Roberta Marshall, one of the head Aurors called out from behind him. She was running a diagnostic spell. “He’s alive. We need to get him to St. Mungo’s now. We’ve got a medical Portkey ready to go.”

 

Ron didn’t let go of Harry. He couldn’t. He just pulled Harry’s limp body onto his lap and reached for the worn out old wallet that would hopefully save both of them. 

 

&&&&&&&&&&&7

_After I have travelled so far_  
_We'd set the fire to the third bar_  
_We'd share each other like an island_  
_Until exhausted, close our eyelids_

 

Harry woke up to the sounds of murmured voices near him. He was expecting intense pain, like what usually happens when he wakes up in the hospital, but instead he just felt very cold and very tired. He tried to turn his head to focus on the voices he heard, but he was having trouble moving. Instead, he just closed his eyes and concentrated on burrowing further beneath St. Mungo’s notoriously thin linens. 

 

He must have made a noise, because suddenly Ron’s blurry figure was hovering over him, and even though he looked like some sort of black, peach, and orange blob, Harry could feel his anxiety. “I’m okay,” he whispered.

 

It sounded like Ron was trying to speak, but no actual words ever came out. Instead, his large heat was smothering Harry, his upper body lying across Harry’s chest and his hands gripping one of Harry’s own. Harry closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed being so thoroughly warm. He squeezed Ron back when the feeling started to return to his hands. 

 

“Harry’s up!” Seamus’ excited voice echoed through the room, still loud even if it did sound a bit feeble. Harry was about to ask for his glasses when Ron put them clumsily on his head.

  

Without even considering where he was, the last few months of pain and awkwardness, or his audience, Harry reached out a weak arm and rested his hand against Ron’s cheek. His face was red and raw with frostbite, but his eyes closed in relief.

 

“Harry…” Ron whispered. He reached up his hand and pressed his cheek firmly against Harry’s palm. “Oh Gods, Harry.”

 

“I’m alright, Ron,” Harry’s voice croaked. 

 

“Damn right! And we got the bastards too!” Seamus exclaimed. Harry let out another sigh of relief.

 

“And it almost cost you your life, you barmy sod!” Dean’s dark voice came from the chair beside Seamus’ bed. “I was so close to losing you.”

 

“You’ll never lose me, mate,” Seamus whispered, and when Dean leaned in to kiss the Irish patient, Ron and Harry looked hastily away. 

 

“How’s Hermione?” Harry asked. The last he saw her, she was okay, but injured.

 

“She’s doing well. Percy came by, said he was taking her home to take care of her,” Ron said. His face screwed up in mock disgust and he rolled his eyes. “Better than just anyone, I guess.”

 

Harry laughed out loud, and Ron answered him with such a bright and open smile that Harry could feel his icy fingertips begin to melt. Harry kept his eyes locked on Ron’s until Ron turned and began to carefully kiss at Harry’s palm. Harry was about to tell Ron everything- How sorry he was, how much he loved him, and how badly he wanted him- when a healer came lightly through the door.

 

“Well you gentlemen are free to go, so long as you promise to administer the medical potions and salves regularly, take a strengthening potion every morning, and take it easy for a few days,” The healer said, looking up from her chart and smiling. 

 

“Yes sir!” Seamus said, giggling and earning an eye roll from Dean.

 

“What’s the medication regemin?” Ron said, walking over to the healer and looking at the chart. She calmly explained what Harry needed to take. When she got to the part about the salves meant to treat frostbite, Ron blushed wildly. Harry assumed Ron was planning on taking care of him, and the thought of Ron rubbing salve on his frostbitten areas may have made Ron blush, but it made everything on Harry’s body heat up. She instructed Ron to apply the same potion to his hands and face. She gave a poignant look at Harry as if to say “Now you make sure he does it,” and then handed them their discharge forms. 

 

Harry reached out a pink, raw hand and went to fill out his forms, but Ron shook his head and sat down to concentrate on the paperwork. Harry looked over and saw Dean doing the same thing. Seamus was whispering in Dean’s ear, and it must have been something terribly filthy, because Dean kept coughing, looking up at Harry and Ron, and then casting a spell on the paperwork and starting over. Seamus' face was completely gleeful, as though he hadn’t almost died. 

 

“Wanna go home, mate?” Ron asked softly, pulling Harry from his distractions. Harry nodded, taking the clothing Ron was handing to him and spelling them back on his body. The act of doing magic jarred him and made him feel faint again, so Ron helped him out of bed and walked him carefully to the apparition point. Harry tried not to shudder as Ron’s strong arm circled his waist and his body pressed against Harry’s before the familiar pull was taking them to Grimmauld Place.

 

Ron kept his arm around Harry has he led him to their sitting room in Grimmauld Place. Harry was thrilled to see their comfortable leather sofa, overstuffed and worn in all the right places, ready for him to relax in. Ron led him into the room and over to his favorite spot. Ron even helped Harry sit down, and Harry was thankful as the stinging pain in his feet and hands still flared. He tried to hide his wince at the movement.

 

“Blimey Harry, do you need some of those potions?” Ron said, his eyes wide with worry. 

 

“I think I might,” Harry answered, his words getting caught against his rough throat. “But first I need something warm to drink.”

 

“Oh shit! I should have realized,” Ron leapt up ran down to the kitchen. Harry could hear him rifling through their things. “We’ve got tea, some cocoa, or I could head up some of this spiced wine my Mum sent us last Christmas!”

 

“Cocoa sounds perfect!” Harry shouted, hurting his throat even further. 

 

In no time at all, Ron was coming back up the steps, levitating two large and steaming mugs in front of him. He set one in front of Harry and the other at the other end of the table. Harry could see a mountain of marshmallows on Ron’s and only three very small marshmallows floating in his cocoa. He looked over at Ron to see him smiling like he had just pulled a brilliant prank.

 

“Well I see that another near death experience hasn’t caused you to treat me with any deference,” Harry murmured. 

 

“Oh bugger off! I brought them down. I just know you don’t like things as sweet as I do, so I thought I’d let you put them in,” Ron said, throwing the bag of small white morsels at Harry’s head. 

 

“Mhmmm, sure. So why are there only a few left in the bag?”

 

Ron just smiled at him and took a large swig of his drink, licking his lips free of the white foam the marshmallows left behind. Harry licked his own lips and bent nearer to his cup, trying to ignore the pain in his extremities and his shaking body. He kept his focus on Ron, and the fire he seemed to emit from his very pores. 

 

“Everything okay?” Ron said, plopping some more marshmallows into his emptying cup.

 

“I just feel like I’ll never feel warm again,” Harry said, trying to pull his legs up closer to him but only hurting his injuries. He cried out in pain. 

 

Once again, Ron was on his feet with his wand drawn. In ignited the fire in the grate so that the heat warmed the parts of Harry’s legs that could have decent feeling. Then, he went over to his robes and pulled Harry’s potions out of his pockets. He bit his lip in concentration, and Harry had to fight the urge to walk over to him and run his tongue along those warm, cocoa sweetened lips. 

 

He laughed ruefully at himself. He and Ron had spent the years of their friendship moving from one hell, one risk to another. They had been fighting something that could be perfect, something that could make them happy for so long, Harry was positive they’d never have another shot. He resigned himself to having a best mate he would want from afar. The moment had passed and he had to let it go. 

 

“Alright, the potions are supposed to be taken before bed or at lunch, so let’s set those aside for a moment. Take off your shirt, mate.” Ron said, his cheeks flaming. 

 

“What?” Harry said, a little more excited than he really should have been. 

 

“Oh, um, well you can keep your undershirt on. I just want to do up your hands and arms with the salve. You’re in a lot of pain and I know you won’t complain until you’re ready to pass out from it,” Ron said, rolling up his sleeves and shaking the bottle onto his palms. 

 

He kneeled down in front of Harry and gently took his red, throbbing arm into his hands. He slid the salve up the worst, nearly purple spots of frost bite and Harry moaned in relief. Ron let out a breath too, and began to coat the rest of the skin on his arms in earnest concentration. Harry leaned back and let Ron’s touch be the sole thought in his head. 

 

Harry arched his neck as Ron’s hands moved gently over his cheeks and down around his ears, soothing the raw skin there. He could feel Ron blowing lightly on each new application and it gave Harry goosebumps that had nothing to do with the latent hypothermia. Ron’s hands lingered on his face, and Harry leaned into the touch, refusing to open his eyes for fear of what he would find when reality set in again.

 

“Ron?” Harry groaned. 

 

“Yeah?” Ron whispered back. 

 

Harry’s hands went up to grip Ron’s wrists. He needed Ron, all of Ron so desperately that he felt his tender skin would rip open. Harry’s whole body was tense and his mind was spinning. He never thought he’d be able to get Ron that close again, and he couldn’t pull away no matter how loudly his logical mind was protesting. He leaned his face forward, allowing himself to fall victim to the illusion if it meant he’d have a chance to feel Ron’s lips on his again. 

 

“You need to take it easy, Harry,” Ron said, the words catching in his throat. When Harry opened his eyes, Ron was looking away as he gently removed hands from Harry’s face. Harry gripped his own hair tightly. “Hey…”

 

Ron angled Harry’s head up to meet his eyes, looking at him with so much concern that it just made Harry hate himself. “I’m fucking it up again. I always fuck it up! This time I’ve hurt more than just me…and I’m never going to get us back, am I?” Harry said, hating himself for sounding so dramatic, but quelling under the weight of defeated loathing in his chest. 

 

“I just need you to mean it, Harry,” Ron whispered, his voice shaking. The grip of his hands on Harry’s shoulders was growing painful. 

 

“Gods, Ron, I meant it the first time! I just…I just…”

 

Ron didn’t let Harry finish, and he pulled Harry’s body against him and pressed his lips firmly to Harry’s wind burned ones. Harry gasped and immediately returned the kiss with as much fervor as Ron, trying to become a part of him, to take his soul over, with the kiss. Soon, however, snogging wasn’t enough. 

 

Ron’s hands grabbed Harry’s arse roughly, pulling him further into his lap. Harry groaned and Ron froze. “Are you...is your skin okay?”

 

“It would be better if you touched every inch of it!” Harry groaned, pressing his erection against Ron’s and causing them both to moan.

 

“Harry!” Ron was practically growling as he ripped Harry’s loose tee shirt off. Harry was shocked, but in the next breath knew he shouldn’t be. Ron approached everything in life with a singular focus and a passion that burned through every inch of him. Harry shuddered, realized he was finally jumping into that fire, and threw his head back as Ron’s hungry mouth moved up and down his neck and he surrendered to him. 

 

Ron’s hands really were all over Harry, his long fingers and wide palms gliding over every part they could reach. Harry thrust forward again when Ron’s hands reached down his pants and held his bare flesh tightly in his hands. Ron and Harry rubbed their clothed erections together, breathing heavily and desperately trying to find more friction while their lips slid together messily. Harry finally mustered up the courage to put his hands up Ron’s shirt, and dragged his fingers along Ron’s long, searing torso. He was practically out of his mind with need as he pulled Ron’s shirt over his messy red head.

 

When they pressed their bodies back against each other, the feeling of Ron’s bare skin against his felt so good, so intense, that Harry’s thighs tightened reflexively around Ron’s legs and he ground his hips against Ron’s erection quickly and desperately. Ron moaned loudly and threw his head back against the back of the couch, meeting Harry’s movements. Harry couldn’t take it a second longer, he needed to touch Ron. He opened Ron’s jeans and wrapped his hand around the taller wizard’s throbbing erection. 

 

“I want you so bad Ron, please,” Harry said, pumping his hand up and down Ron’s shaft.

 

“Harry…gods…I” Ron answered. He held out his hand and his wand flew right to his outstretched fingers. Harry could almost feel the power radiate off of Ron as he cast a wandless, nonverbal spell.

 

“You’re not the only one who can do fancy tricks,” Ron growled, smirking as he flicked his wand and Harry’s trousers and pants were gone, along with Ron’s rough jeans and y-fronts. Harry dug his fingers into Ron’s forearms and kissed him hard as an answer to the bevy of emotions welling up inside of him. If he would have died in that moment, it wouldn’t have mattered, because he felt he truly had Ron for the first time. He felt safe. 

 

Ron’s fingers wrapped around one side of his cock, and Ron’s own throbbing member pressed next to it. Harry didn’t know if he could hold himself up once Ron began to move up and down and breathe heavily beneath him on that comfortable sofa. He latched his lips to Ron’s pale, freckled neck when he threw his head back, and tried to focus on that instead of coming all over the both of them. When Ron began to groan with Harry’s name on his lips, Harry could feel the pleasure all through his spine. 

 

“Ron, please. Fuck me…please,” Harry whispered, bringing his lips back up to meet Ron’s. Ron pulled away and ducked his head slightly, thrusting up suddenly when Harry ran his thumb over the head of Ron’s cock.

 

“Harry,” Ron moaned, suddenly pulling Harry closer to him. 

 

“I need you,” Harry whispered, shaking with fear as he felt Ron starting to pull away.

 

“Will you stay this time?” Ron asked suddenly, looking up at Harry with deep vulnerability rippling through his blue eyes. Ron’s face only stayed that way for a second before he tried to drop down a mask and press his lips together, breaking eye contact. He licked his lips slowly and took a deep breath while Harry’s stomach fell. 

 

He wanted to drop to his knees and promise Ron he wouldn’t leave, to beg forgiveness for being such a prat, but he knew that it would just make Ron uncomfortable and a little guilty. So Harry once again brought his hands up to the side of Ron’s face and looked him steadily in the eye. He kissed Ron softly, and spent a singular moment reveling in the small whimper Ron uttered when he pulled away. 

 

“I am not going anywhere.” Harry growled. “There’s no way I can walk away from this…not ever again. Ron, I can’t believe…” Ron cut him off with a kiss and thrust his erection back against Harry’s. Harry slumped forward in ecstasy before lifting a shaking hand up and wandlessly summoning the lubricant from his nightstand. Ron smiled up at him and kissed his neck as he removed the vial from Harry’s hand.  

 

Harry couldn’t help but freeze when Ron’s finger moved along his entrance. Ron paused for a moment and looked up at Harry, but whatever he saw in Harry’s eyes encouraged him to proceed and he carefully breached Harry’s hole, not breaking eye contact. Harry winced and he felt Ron’s nose move against his neck. Harry snaked his arms around Ron’s shoulders and pressed down on his fingers, moaning at the sudden pleasurable feeling. 

 

Ron soon moved a second finger next to the first and thrust gently in and out of Harry. “Harry, you’re so tight, are you-“

 

“I need you, Ron,” Harry said, his voice shaking. 

 

He saw Ron swallow hard before he leaned in and kissed Harry as the head of his cock began to move past Harry’s tight ring of muscle. Ron slowly slid in, pulling Harry’s cheeks apart with his large hands, and Harry tried to focus on relaxing his body. Ron was hurting him, but he wanted Ron to keep going, because the feeling of having Ron inside of him was making him see stars at the same time. He let out a shuddering moan and let go until the bottom of his thighs hit the top of Ron’s. Harry cried out in pain and surprise. 

 

“Harry, I can stop,” Ron said, even as his eyes were rolling back in his head in pleasure. “Bloody hell, I’ve never…this has never…”

 

“Don’t stop! Just give me a minute,” Harry whispered, resting his head on Ron’s shoulder. Ron ran his hands soothingly up and down Harry’s back, kissing him and whispering words of comfort in his ear. Soon, Harry began to move his body up and down on Ron’s cock, and Ron threw his head back and gripped Harry’s hips tightly.

 

“You feel so good, Harry. So perfect,” Ron whispered, looking up to meet Harry’s eyes. Something inside of Harry snapped and he could feel his orgasm building. 

 

“I’m going to come Ron,” Harry said, groaning and grinding his body up and down as Ron met his thrusts with hard, strong ones of his own. 

 

“Yes, Harry! Let go,” Ron groaned, his cock twitching inside of Harry’s channel. Harry knew Ron was close, and when Ron’s hand wrapped around his cock, Harry came instantly, whispering Ron’s name and moving his body erratically over the ginger wizard’s. 

 

Ron’s hands moved up to Harry’s shoulders, pulling Harry’s body close against his as he came, Holding Harry tightly with his entire body shuddering. Harry threw his head back and clenched hard on Ron’s pulsing cock. He closed his eyes and slumped his body against Ron’s as the last vestiges of his orgasm died down.

 

When Harry came back to his senses, Ron was still holding him tightly. The evidence of their coupling had been cleaned, and Ron’s arms were wrapped around him, his body trembling slightly. Harry tried to pull back and look at Ron’s face, but Ron’s grip did not falter. He brought his hands lightly up and down Ron’s forearms until he began to slowly relax.

 

“We’ve been walking this line for so long Harry. I almost lost you twice; I have had to face your death so much…too much. I love you, Harry. I’d die for you. But I feel like if I leave this place, that line will be drawn again, and we’ll be on either side of it trying to plot our next move,” Ron said, blushing with embarrassment at his own vulnerability.

 

Harry carefully extracted himself from Ron’s grip and waved his wand until the sofa was a little wider and there were comfortable blankets draped across the back. He pulled on his faded pants and handed Ron his. There was a rustle of fabric and Ron stood, partially clothed in the middle of the floor. Harry walked swiftly over to Ron and pressed his forehead against Ron’s chest, right at his heart. His hands wrapped tightly around Ron’s abdomen and he breathed in deeply. 

 

“That line is gone. I’m yours. I’ve loved you for so long, with every part of me. I was just scared. But now, Ron..now…I’m not going anywhere.” Harry said, kissing up Ron’s chest until he met the tall wizard’s lips. 

 

They walked over to the worn old sofa and Harry laid down with his back against Ron’s chest. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry and Harry took Ron’s hands in his own. Before he could even say goodnight, he heard Ron’s snores begin to hum against the back of his neck. Harry sighed, too tired to complain about the noise, and too happy to care. 

 

_And dreaming, pick up from_  
_The last place we left off_  
_Your soft skin is weeping_  
_A joy you can't keep in_

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

 

Hermione tiptoed around the kitchen at Grimmauld place, trying to find somewhere to pin up her neatly and thoughtfully prepared list of Ron and Harry’s potions treatment guidelines. She grinned as she put a permanent sticking charm over the cupboard where they kept the biscuits and brushed her hands together with accomplishment. It had been Percy’s idea to write the list, and Hermione closed her eyes and shuddered over the image of Percy’s ink-stained and careful fingers ghosting across her skin. Her evening had certainly been eye-opening.

 

Worrying that Ron and Harry might not have done things right on their first night away from St. Mungo’s, Hermione decided to go up to their rooms and just peek in. She knew it was an invasion of privacy, but after all they had put her through in the past few days, she was entitled to a little protectiveness. She began to limp slightly across the foyer. 

 

A steady hand gripped her arm, and Hermione looked up to find Percy smiling kindly down at her. All of the blood in her body seemed to rush to her face at the look in Percy’s eyes. She had never seen someone behave so intense and passionately, but still reigned in, almost like trapping fireworks inside of a glass case. She had to fight not to bite her lip. 

 

When they passed the sitting room, Percy gasped and tried to cover it with a cough. Ron and Harry were tangled in an old quilt, Ron’s long pale legs draped over Harry and their torsos pressed so close that you couldn’t fit a slip of parchment between them. They both had smiles on their faces that Hermione couldn’t recall seeing in their sleep since they were all still at school. She felt a moment of jealousy before she felt Percy’s warm body slide in next to her in the doorway.

 

“They’ll see our note,” Percy whispered, his composure threatening to burst at any moment. 

 

“Of course,” Hermione said, turning her back and walking carefully to the entrance. 

 

“Hey,” Percy said suddenly as they closed the front door behind them. 

 

When Hermione looked up, he kissed her softly with his thumbs running over her cheeks and his hands cradling her jaw. They pulled away, but his hands stayed on her face. She felt a smile form across her lips that rivaled the grins Ron and Harry were currently wearing a room away. 

 


End file.
